The Private E Project
by AccioAsh7171
Summary: It takes drastic and alarming events to turn Draco Malfoy into a person worth knowing. That certainly wasn't the intent of the Provence Utopian Community, and Astoria didn't do it on purpose either. It just sort of happened that way.
1. Chapter 1

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Disclaimer: All familiar characters, etc., belong to J. K. Rowling

* * *

_Transcript, Interview with Victim No. 3_

_August 15__th__, 2008_

_Interviewer: Mr. Edward Prinwell_

_Others in Attendence: Mr. Harry Potter, Auror Department Head; Mr. Ronald Weasley, Auror; Miss Hermione Granger, Officer of Magical Law; Mr. Dessel, secretary to the Minister of Magic._

**Interviewer:** Now before we begin, would you like anything to drink? Tea? Pumpkin juice?

**Victim No. 3: **No, I'm fine.

**Interviewer:** Well then, I suppose we can get started. First, would you mind putting your wand away? Forgive me, but I feel a little uncomfortable with you fiddling with it like that.

**Victim No. 3: **I'm sure you'll get over it.

**Interviewer:** Well, um, sir, I see how you feel, but it is really very—what is that, Mr. Potter?

**Mr. Harry Potter:** [inaudible]

**Interviewer: **But sir, this is really very—no, no of course. Very well. [clears throat] Where were we? Oh yes. Mr. Malfoy, please state your name and age.

**Victim No. 3:** Draco Lucius Malfoy, 27.

**Interviewer:** You were with Astoria Greengrass during your stay at the so-called Provence Utopian Community, is that correct?

**Victim No. 3:** Yes.

**Interviewer:** And your children?

**Victim No. 3:** Scorpius, two years, and Cassiopeia, age six months.

**Interviewer:** Do you know how long you were imprisoned?

**Victim No. 3:** Three years, two months, and twelve days.

**Interviewer:** I see. How long was it until you were introduced to Miss Greengrass?

**Victim No. 3:** About two weeks.

**Interviewer:** Do you know if that was typical?

**Victim No. 3:** I believe it was.

**Interviewer:** Do you know why they timed these introductions in such a way?

**Victim No. 3:** No.

**Interviewer:** Any guesses at all?

**Victim No. 3:** I suppose…that they wanted us to be already despairing, and already eager to talk with someone.

**Interviewer:** Were you aware of why they had put you together?

**Victim No. 3:** No.

**Interviewer:** When did—I'm sorry, is the closed door bothering you?

[moving of chairs, shuffling]

**Victim No. 3:** No, it's fine.

**Interviewer:** Oh, alright then. When did you discover it?

[moving of chairs, shuffling]

**Victim No. 3:** I'm sorry, I'm not comfortable answering that.

**Interviewer:** Oh, well, I suppose we can…Um, then, can you tell me about the birth of your children.

**Victim No. 3:** No.

**Interviewer:** I'm sorry?

**Victim No. 3:** I'm not going to answer any more questions about my family.

**Interviewer:** You understand that by giving us this information, you are helping us put some very sadistic, very dangerous people in prison.

**Victim No. 3:** There are dozens of others who can give you the information you need. It's not going to be me.

**Interviewer:** May I ask why?

**Victim No. 3:** It shouldn't be hard to understand, even for you. I've had an extreme lack of privacy in my life for the last few years. I'd like to start getting it back now.

**Interviewer:** You understand that if everyone feels as you do, we will not have the strong case we need.

**Victim No. 3:** Thankfully, I'm sure that not all the others feel the same way I do.

**Interviewer:** We can only hope so, I suppose.

**Victim No. 3:** But if you really did want the most information, you should perhaps consider interviewing them in a more pleasant environment and with only yourself or another person present. It's quite daunting staring at a group of five people, some of whom I've never met and others whom I dislike, to talk about extremely personal matters. And I'd also consider giving them the option of speaking anonymously. I don't quite understand why that was not offered here.

**Ms. Hermione Granger to Mr Harry Potter:** [inaudible]

**Interviewer:** What is that, Ms. Weasley?

**Ms. Granger: **Nothing, please continue.

**Interviewer: **Oh, all right then, I suppose—well, I suppose that's everything for now. We'll call you in again when we've refined our list and perhaps modified our arrangements.

[Chairs scraping]

* * *

**Day 1**

He hadn't seen a soul for two weeks. Not even a hand had slipped through the slot in the door to deliver food. Instead, plates magically appeared on the floor in front of the door in a way that painfully reminded him of hearty Hogwarts dinners.

With nothing in his small cell but a thin mat on the floor, Draco's mind had even run out of ways he thought his captors might torture him. He still wasn't sure who exactly had kidnapped him, but he naturally assumed it was some Death Eater-hating group who had lost loved ones during the war. It was all the more frightening that they hadn't even come in to taunt him yet.

He heard steps in the hall for the first time during what he thought was midafternoon. It was hard to tell with only a high, small window. By the time they were unlocking the door, He was on his feet, his back against the farthest wall.

As soon as they were through the door, they immobilized him with a simple _Petrificus Totalus_. However, they didn't say a word to him and one of the guards even smiled kindly at him while they placed shackles on his hands and feet.

"These will keep you from using magic, so please don't be foolish enough to try. It will only hurt," the smiling one said.

He tried to muster up some wandless magic anyway—determined to at least try to resist, thinking perhaps of the War and how he wished he had resisted more than—and was swiftly rewarded with shooting pain up his right arm. It faded away instantly, but not before he cried out and his knees buckled.

The man was cheerfully humming, and he clucked his tongue sympathetically. "They always try, don't they? Such a waste."

The man spoke with a slight accent, and Draco tried to place it, but it was difficult with his mind racing and the memory of pain still strong on his right side.

He instead resorted to counting doorways in hopes that he could at least memorize the layout of the place in the event of an escape. Three doors down, then four, five, then a sharp corner. The guards opened a door into a large tiled bathroom. One wall was lined with shower heads while another held sinks and mirrors.

"Thought you might like the take a shower, clean up a bit," The smiling guard said. He was a rotund man who, in another setting, might have seemed friendly and might have even reminded Draco of Slughorn.

"Don't worry, we'll give you some privacy. And a new set of clothes." He promptly dismissed the other guards to stand in the hallway, and then removed Draco's shackles.

"Go on, then," He said. "Don't worry, I'll turn around." He turned on his heel so that he faced the door, away from the showers or the mirrors and sinks. As he did so, he twirled his wand, making—much to Draco's dismay—Draco's clothes vanish.

"Hurry up now, you don't want to get too cold!" The guard said, ignoring Draco's frustrated swearing and still staring at the door to the hall.

Draco irritably walked over to the nearest shower and yanked the handle. Thankfully, the water was heated, and Draco grudgingly enjoyed washing off the grime that had gathered over the last few weeks in that claustrophobic cell.

"Any chance you can tell me why I'm here?" He asked as he ran soap through his overlong hair.

"I guess you could say that it's a bit of an experiment. But I'd say it's going wonderfully."

"So sitting alone in a dirty room for weeks fit into your plans? Glad to know it wasn't a total waste."

"Oh, that was just the warm up. Don't worry, nothing too unpleasant is planned!" the man bounced on the balls of his feet jovially as he said it, and Draco didn't like the sound of that at all.

"Who are you people, anyway?"

"Well, we like to call ourselves the neo-purists. We have the utmost respect for Pureblood families and traditions, and we're only hoping we can learn from the mistakes of our international brethren and create a powerful and unified Wizarding community."

French, Draco finally decided. The man's almost nonexistent accent was French.

"I take it I'm in France then?" Draco asked.

"Ah, you are much more observant than I thought. The accent give it away?"

"It's very mild."

"Yes, I have been working very hard to perfect my English. It is a shame it is not quite right yet."

As he dried himself with the towel that had appeared for him, Draco also noticed a new set of black robes neatly folded and lying on a bench next to him.

"You are partial to black I believe?" The man asked.

Draco didn't respond but quickly slipped into the robes.

"You seem to know a lot about me."

"Of course, Draco. You are in the papers!" the man seemed to know instinctively that he could turn around again, and so he did as he spoke.

"So who are you, anyway? You seem to enjoy your job."

"I do," the man said, bouncing on his heels again. "I believe I have the happiest job in this community."

"Why is that?"

"Oh, I am in the business of placing families together. I'm very good at it," he added, his eyes twinkling.

"I didn't catch your name."

"I didn't give it, my young friend. But enough about me. You are almost ready." He snapped his fingers, and a new man walked in.

The jovial man guided Draco to a barber's shop in the corner that Draco hadn't noticed before and ordered him to sit. Draco was instantly wary, but the man put a hand on Draco's shoulder encouragingly.

"Don't worry, friend. Why would we clean you up only to slit your throat now?"

"Yeah, very comforting." Draco said, still backing away towards the wall.

"We only want to give you a haircut," the man said, clearly humored. "I had heard you would be skeptical. I did not realize we had done so little to let you know how welcome you are here!" He laughed apologetically.

"Two weeks in a room the size of a closet—no idea why I wouldn't be suspicious, huh?" Draco said sharply.

"Ah, I see," the man said. He sighed and looked deeply ashamed of himself, as if he was a child who had been caught in mischief. "You are right, we have been very poor hosts. However, you will see that we are eager to make up for it!"

Draco still didn't move and pulled away from the man's hand.

"I am sorry, friend. I would love to take more time to convince you, but I have other appointments." He turned to the new man, who now stood silently by the barber chair, wand out. "John?"

John nodded.

"Apologies, Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps next time we meet, you will forgive me?" And without waiting for a reply he said, "_Imperio_."

Draco suddenly felt warm—elated even. All he had to do was go and sit in the chair. This thought had not fully formed in his mind before he found himself walking towards it and sitting down. The elated feeling continued as John placed a smock over his new robes and began hurriedly snipping off bits of hair with his wand.

The jovial man was still there, now smiling benignly down at Draco as though he were a particularly charming and obedient child. Draco felt a strong urge to smile back.

"Next time, friend, you will know that we only mean the best."

John finished with Draco's hair and moved on to shave Draco's very scraggly-looking face. John's boss lifted the Imperious curse just as John gave a finishing pat of aftershave. He felt the warmth and elation drain away, instead giving him a nauseous feeling of having lost control—not a feeling Draco treasured remembering in these days after the war.

The last two weeks had been full of it.

"Once again, my apologies for the presumption, but we are very short on time. Shall we go, then?" And the man stepped back and swept his arm towards the now open door without any hint of remorse or any hint of annoyance at Draco's refusal to cooperate.

Draco did not get up and move to the door. Instead, he sat rigid in the chair trying his best not to panic wondering what they were going to do to him.

The man sighed again. "Jasper," he called into the hallway, and a thin sour-faced man entered the room.

The two of them conferred silently for a while, as Jasper seemed to be disagreeing about something. After a while, the jovial man sighed, said something that Draco still couldn't hear, and left the room.

As soon as he was gone, Jasper lazily flicked his wand towards Draco, and shackles appeared on his hands and feet again.

Grabbing hold of Draco's arm, he pulled roughly on Draco so that he stumbled out of the chair. Jasper didn't give him any time to recover his footing and instead continued hauling Draco towards the door. Draco found that he was suddenly exhausted and incapable of resisting—an effect of the shackles, he guessed—and resigned himself to stumbling along down the hall.

They didn't return him to the tiny cell. Instead, they turned towards a new hallway that Draco hadn't seen before. Once up a small flight of stairs, they passed one, two, three doors before stopping at the fourth.

Now on the outside of the door, Draco saw that the doors contained a maze of rods and cogs that you couldn't see from the inside. The guard tapped his wand where the handle should be, muttering something Draco couldn't hear, and a door handle sprung into existence as the cogs and wheels turned to unbolt the many locks that lined the frame.

Pulling the door open, the first guard stepped aside so that Draco and Jasper could walk through.

This room, Draco could instantly tell, was a definite upgrade from his previous cell. A large, actual bed stood in the corner of the room. There was a shallow wall hiding a small toilet, sink, and bathtub. A rickety-looking table and chairs stood against the wall, too.

Also, he wasn't the only occupant. A girl with dark brown hair and fair skin was standing against the back wall, looking as afraid and confused as Draco.

After placing Draco in the center of the room, Jasper raised his wand, immobilizing both Draco and the girl, and making Draco's shackles disappear. As soon as the door shut behind him and the others, the spell lifted and both prisoners were free to move around.

The room held just the two of them.

The girl didn't relax at all at finding herself alone with him, but she looked at him curiously.

"Did they get you all cleaned up, too?"

Draco shrugged.

"What was your room like?" she asked.

"Small and dirty," Draco replied. "Yours?"

"Same."

They stared at each other for a while.

"How long have you been in here?" he asked, taking a glance around the room.

"Just this morning."

"Are we staying here?"

"I don't know. I guess so. What did Gerard say?"

"Who?"

"Gerard," the girl repeated, as if that was the clearest thing in the world. "The man who kind of runs things, it looks like. Who's always smiling."

"Ah," Draco said, annoyed that the man had refused to tell him his name. "He didn't say much. Said this was an experiment, and something about how we're guests and we don't need to worry."

The girl pursed her lips, and Draco was glad to see that this comment irritated her as much as it had irritated him.

"Malfoy, right? You were in Potter's year at Hogwarts."

Draco felt the familiar twist of anger in his stomach at being known as "someone in Harry Potter's year," but fought down a sarcastic reply. Instead, he tried to place her. She looked familiar, but—.

"Astoria," the girl offered, now allowing herself to come away from the wall a little. "Greengrass. I was two years below you. You were friends with my sister, Daphne, I think."

"Right," Draco said.

There was silence again.

"How long have you been here?" Draco asked.

"Ten days. You?"

"Fifteen. You see anyone else here?"

"No. Just Gerard this morning. And whoever that skinny one was—you know, the one who always looks angry?"

"Jasper." Draco offered, spitting the name out and still smarting from the humiliating way he had been dragged into this room.

Astoria nodded. Both of them fell silent.

"Is there anything to do in here? I'm bored out of my mind." Draco asked.

"There's a stack of cards on the shelf," Astoria said, nodding to the bookcase behind him. "And then a few books. Most are on blood purity. So it looks like we're with some faction of a new Death Eater group."

Draco had already turned around to face the bookshelves. "Idiots," he muttered.

"What was that?" Astoria asked. Draco thought her voice sounded a touch more strained.

He looked back at her, and it hit him that she might think he was a part of the group. "I said that they're idiots. No one will allow a faction of blood purists to gain any sort of power in government, not after the show in England."

"Yes but—"

"And we're not in England. Did you know that?"

The color had drained out of her face, and Draco was annoyed that she seemed to be more afraid of him now.

"Can't you hear the accent in Gerard's voice?" He asked impatiently. "And he said something about 'learning from our international brethren.' I think he was talking about Death Eaters. We're in France."

Astoria looked confused now, and opened her mouth to say something, but Draco cut her off.

"This isn't a group of Death Eaters. This is some collection of Frenchmen who are obsessed with blood purity. I don't think they are trying to raise up the Dark Lord again."

Astoria nodded, but knit her brow, thinking.

"And if you think I'm working with them, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not really in anyone's high graces right now, in case you can't remember."

Astoria nodded again, looking uncomfortable. Draco silently picked up a book and sat at the table to read it.

Eventually, Astoria sidled far enough away from the wall to perch on the bed, still watching Draco intently. It was getting really annoying.

Draco had gotten 30 pages into his book, doing his best to read the book slowly so that it would last longer. But it was difficult to read at all when Astoria kept staring at him.

"Can I help you?" he finally said.

"Why do you think we're here?" she asked.

"I don't know. Like I told you, Gerard—or whatever his name is—said that this was an experiment."

"Do you think they'll do testing or anything? I've read about muggles doing that with people groups—"

Draco shuddered at the idea, thinking, too, about the class he had to take on muggle studies after the war, and how an organization called the Nazis had experimented on their prisoners. He took two deep breaths, trying to relax the tension in his shoulders. Looking down, his knuckles were white as they held onto the book's edges. But he worked hard to keep himself together, and though he lacked conviction, he cleared his throat and said, "No, they wouldn't do that. Not if they are serious about blood purity. We're the same as they are."

Astoria stared at him, obviously not missing his anxiety. "What if they don't believe that? What if they think they're better than us because they're French and we're English? That is possible, isn't it?"

Draco's throat was dry. "Not likely," he rasped out, almost failing to sound casual.

"Well, why else are we here?"

"I don't know, ok?" he said hotly. "Do you have any theories you'd like to share? Because this is all perfectly new to me, too."

She didn't say anything. Draco turned back to his book, but he hadn't even focused on the page when something sprang into existence on the table, causing him to swear and jump back in alarm. As soon as he was standing, however, he saw that it was only two identical plates of food.

"A little jumpy, hm?"

Draco glared at Astoria as she moved to sit across from him at the table.

"I finally believe that you're just as stuck here as I am, though. So you've got that in your favor." And she pulled a plate towards her and picked up a fork.

"Aren't you worried they might put something in your food?" Draco asked.

"Already thought about it. I tried starving myself, but they imperiused me so that I ate anyway, and it doesn't look like it hurt me at all. And I'd rather die on a full stomach, I think." She looked up from her food. "Why? What did you do for the last two weeks?"

"I agree with you. Just curious after all your talk about experimentation."

Astoria shuddered. "Let's not talk about that now."

They ate in silence.

"So, where were you working when they picked you up?" she asked, once they had finished eating and their plates had vanished.

"I was doing some investing, traveling around for my father, that kind of thing."

"He's still under house arrest, isn't he?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Yes," he said tightly.

A small blush started to creep over Astoria's face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—."

Draco nodded and looked across the room, bored. "What about you? What were you doing?"

"Well, I had just returned from a few years abroad. Studying new potion techniques in America. And," she hesitated for a split second as a blush colored her cheeks, "I got engaged. About six months ago." She held up her left hand to show off her ring, smiling a bit idiotically.

"Oh," Draco said. He hadn't expected that, and the idea that was just beginning to form in his head on how their little roommate arrangement was going to work vanished like smoke.

"Do you know Eric Heartwood? Probably not...he's from my year." She said, almost more to herself than him. The sparkle in her eyes died out as she remembered that Eric was probably a thousand miles away with no idea where she was.

"Where did they pick you up?" she asked.

"Right outside the Ministry of Magic, of all places. You'd think their doorstep would've been safe."

"I know what you mean. I was just coming home from dinner at the Leaky Cauldron. They must have known where I lived."

To both of their delight, steaming cups of tea and a slice of pie now appeared on the table. Astoria doctored her tea with cream and sugar while Draco drank his plain, both genuinely pleased for the first time and relaxing just a fraction.

"I was just thinking that such a nice room would only be made better if they gave us tea. Even in America I could find good British tea!" Astoria said, sipping hers. "What did they give you before?"

"Just bread and an apple, mostly. And water." Draco said, taking a bite of pie. This was the best he felt in days.

"Me too," Astoria said, and they finished eating in silence.

The single bed was the first problem they faced as the lamp flickered, and Astoria informed Draco that it was a signal that they had just a few minutes before all the lights went out.

It wasn't that the bed was small—it could easily fit both of them. It was that they would have to either face the uncomfortable decision of who would get the bed or the awkwardness of sharing it. However, a day with Astoria and the relief of having another person to talk to made Draco feel chivalrous, so they decided that they would alternate nights—Astoria got the bed the first night while Draco took a pillow and blanket and slept on the floor. The next night they would switch.

* * *

**Day 2**

They both woke early the next morning, tired of sleeping and bored. Astoria had picked up one of the books only to set it down in disgust seconds later. She had just done so when plates of food appeared on the table, steam rising up from a small pile of eggs and potatoes. A teapot and two mugs had also appeared.

Both of them were starving after weeks of living off hardly any food, so they both immediately aimed themselves at the table.

Feeling more sociable and desperate for something new to talk about, Draco asked, "What's Daphne up to these days?"

"Oh, you know she married Theo Nott a few years ago. You were at the wedding weren't you? No? Oh, sorry. Forgot. Anyway, they just had a little girl."

It didn't take long to exhaust the topic of Daphne, so they briefly touched on Draco's parents before talking more extensively about Astoria's parents and their recent travel plans. Then they talked about Astoria's time in America.

In reality, Astoria talked about her experiences in America, and Draco listened. He wasn't sure he'd ever seem someone quite as animated as she was. She would stop occasionally, asking Draco a question, and he would deflect it as best he could. He wasn't very good at talking to people any more. He was sure she noticed, but she didn't seem to mind.

It was quite nice hearing about her adventures in America, Draco thought. He could almost see the towering skyscrapers of Chicago or the moss-covered trees of Louisiana, and he could almost smell the way the potions lab reeked of rotten eggs after a bad experiment.

They talked more equally about potions, which was still a subject that Draco appreciated. And it wasn't personal, so he didn't feel the need to deflect questions. Astoria seemed to pick up on this, so they spent a good hour or two talking about the newest articles in _Potions Today_, and how they modified their various recipes in school for the best results.

They were still talking—this time Astoria had got him to talk about when he were younger, before Hogwarts—when the lunch dishes appeared, carrying two sandwiches. He was telling her how his father had got him his first broom when he was five, and how he would occasionally dare to ride it over the pond when his father wasn't looking.

This topic certainly fell into the category of the personal and possibly the vulnerable, but in the moment Draco didn't mind. After all, he was just carrying a conversation. He used to do this all the time. And Astoria had just told a story of her first time in a broom and how her father had to rescue her from a tree.

And then the conversation took an unpleasant turn as Astoria informed him—as if the entire world didn't know—that Potter and the Weaselette's son was now a year old. The media had spent a week fawning over his first year pictures.

Astoria spoke reservedly about Potter and his friends, as though unwilling to be unkind to them but aware that she couldn't speak of them highly in present company. And when Draco had scoffed at the attention they drew and called Ginny "Weaselette," she had reproached him.

"I think it's very brave what she did that last year, standing up to the Carrows like that. Maybe it was different for you—being older and in Slytherin. But some of my friends were really scared, we didn't know what to do, and she and her friends made us feel like it wasn't over and we weren't alone. She even helped me and some others escape the dungeons one night when we'd been late to our Dark Arts class."

The ease and unguarded feeling Draco had enjoyed through breakfast and lunch evaporated and turned immediately into irritation. But something about the reverent way she spoke about Ginny and the others made Draco feel ashamed of himself.

"I mean, you can't help but be grateful for what they did, can you? I mean, they ended it—Ginny, Harry, Neville, and everyone."

Grateful was a strong word for Draco, so instead he said, "Of course I was relieved. That whole year was hell for me, too. And no, it didn't make a difference being older and in Slytherin—" He was still being more honest with her than he was with anyone else, he noticed ruefully— "But—"

He checked himself at the look on Astoria's face. He sighed, rankled to be talking about Harry Potter, and irritated by Astoria's reproachful look and genuine gratitude for the Gryffindors.

"What house were you in anyway?"

"Hufflepuff."

Draco snorted. "No wonder I didn't recognize you. How'd you end up there?"

Now Astoria's otherwise gentle brown eyes blazed, too. "The hat said I valued loyalty and truth above all other things. Not something I'd expect you to understand too well. You were too busy soaking up Tom Riddle's power philosophy."

Perhaps it was the truth of this statement, or maybe it was that he hadn't expected her to be capable of anything near a biting remark. Whatever it was, Draco winced.

Astoria winced, too. "I'm sorry, I—I just—" she sighed. "People are always underappreciating Hufflepuff. But forget I said anything. What about—How about we—" She was starting to play with her ring nervously. "Exploding snap."

"I—What?"

"We should play exploding snap. I'll get the cards."

They didn't talk much during exploding snap, but maybe that was because Astoria said her throat hurt. Thankfully, whatever awkwardness had been at the table slipped away again as soon as they moved to play on the floor.

Exploding snap is a pretty interesting game anyway, and Draco found that he felt comfortable—relaxed even—sitting in silence and across the cards from Astoria. It's funny how six hours of conversation helps you feel like you've known a person all your life.

That night, Draco got the bed and Astoria took the floor. As they lay there in the dark, Astoria giggled.

"It's funny, today felt more like a sleepover."

It really hadn't been a bad day, all things considered, he thought. But still. "Worst sleep over I've ever been to."

"Then apparently you've never spent the night with Pansy Parkinson."

Draco smirked at this, remembering several not-so-bad nights with Parkinson, but didn't say anything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello!**

**First, thank you so so so much for the reviews, follows, and favorites! As an avid reader, I know I don't review as much as I should, so I really really appreciate everyone who took the time.**

**Second, I changed a few things:**

**1. I updated the Summary so that it was a little clearer**

**2. I lowered the M rating to a T for now. I'm thinking I'll move the rating up when I feel like the story needs it. However, even though I'll start to cover more adult topics, I don't plan on being explicit or anything. What do you guys think? The rating system is new to me. Tell me what you think the rating should be.**

**3. I went back and edited the first chapter just a little. Reading it published, some things just bothered me. If I changed something that you liked, let me know. I'm very uncertain about this whole process and would love feedback.**

* * *

_Hogwarts, September of 2024_

"Can anyone tell me what this is?"

Professor Scripps held up the textbook so that the words "_Interview with victim No. 3" _could be read in bold on the page. Portions of the text had been blacked to hide the date and the name and details of the victim.

Not a single hand was raised, but more than one student—CeCe included—leaned closer over the textbook on their desk for clues.

"Blood idealogy," continued the professor, "is a relatively new field, here at Hogwarts and in the greater Wizarding world. Recent events in Wizarding history, which your parents can tell you about better than I can, showed us that Muggle Studies is not a sufficient course for understanding the prejudices that have threatened our era."

Scripps was American, and she didn't mind distancing herself from the Second Wizarding War.

"Now," She stopped pacing up and down the tables, book still held up, and returned to her desk at the front. "This interview, published just a few years ago, is the first proof we have that the Provence Utopian Community was not a work camp run by pureblood wizards and populated by unsuspecting muggles. Instead, it is one of the most bizarre and boldest moves taken by pureblood idealists in our young century, and quite possibly in the century before."

She let the book fall onto her desk with a satisfying thud that made CeCe jump and blot her ink.

"While your textbook only includes a few interviews, almost all the information they have gathered from the Society has been made public. I say _almost_ all because they have insisted on keeping the identities of all victims—even the identities of the interviewers and investigators—secret. As such, we can't be sure what years the community existed during, although we do know that it was before 2009, when the first proof of it was brought to light.

"So far, this Society has been more or less forgotten, apart from a series of Daily Prophet articles once it was discovered. I may periodically reference it, but I urge you to research it yourselves. It tells us more than we could have dreamed of knowing about how far an idealist is willing to go to preserve his beliefs, and how those beliefs impact those around him and under him. I have put three books on hold with Madame Pince so you may read the books in the library. Should one of you decide to write your term paper on the subject, I may find you additional resources and privileges."

CeCe jotted down the information furiously.

* * *

**Day 3**

Just when he was thinking that there couldn't possibly be anything else for the two of them to talk about, Astoria asked him over the last of their breakfast,

"So were you seeing anyone back home?"

He sighed. He should have known they would cover this eventually.

"No."

Honestly, the subject was a bit touchy for him, mostly because his mother had begun to nag at him about it.

"No? Just no?"

"Nothing serious. I'm not really interested in long-term relationships."

"Scarred by Pansy?" she asked.

"Something like that. What about you? Eric, was it?"

"Yeah." She gave him that same genuine and a bit idiotic smile. "We were in seventh year, and everything was just starting to really be normal again, and I didn't even know that he knew who I was, much less that he liked me," she began.

Apparently, "Eric" had spent the night before Valentine's Day weekend weaving and growing a trail of roses all the way from outside her dorm door to the Great Hall, ending the trail with the words, "_Astoria, Accompany me to Hogsmeade?"_ growing in moss and flowers on the wall. He was standing in front of the giant words, a bouquet of red roses in hand.

"Of course, I had liked him since—well, for a while, so I said yes right away. And, well. We've been together ever since."

"Wow," said Draco. "That's very…"

"Over the top, I know. He's great that way, although it does get a little out of hand sometimes. You won't _believe_ how he proposed."

It had apparently never crossed Astoria's mind that perhaps Draco wasn't interested in every aspect and special moment of her relationship.

But listening to her go on about the glorious event of her engagement wasn't as bad as it could have been, he thought. It was probably because she was a good storyteller and he was bored. And besides, if she didn't talk, he had a feeling he would have to. And what do you say to someone as innocent and honest as Astoria?

"…And _then,_" Astoria said, continuing her story, "He swooped down on an Abraxan horse—and you know all the fireworks are still going off, and I can see all my friends and family waving at me from below the balcony—and he's got this beautiful speech memorized about how I inspire him and complete him, all the really sweet things that probably aren't true—"

Not that she looked the least upset about this.

"—And, well, then he asked me. And I said yes."

"It'd be hard to turn someone down after all that," Draco said.

"Yes well, that's true. There was a lot of pressure, but wasn't that amazing? It's like something out of a book. And I don't even know how he afforded it. I know he doesn't have a lot of money. But he spoils me like that. Says he can't help himself."

She was positively glowing. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen someone so proud. He wondered if that was just how Astoria was, or if Eric was really as fantastic as she made him sound.

"What's his job?" he asked.

"Oh something at the ministry, he said it's hard to explain," she waved him off.

"What, like an Unspeakable?"

"No, he works more with regulations and that sort of thing. Really boring, actually. I'm surprised he's stuck with that kind of job. But he always told me that it made good money, and that he gets all the excitement he needs when he's with me."

"Anyway," she said, studying her ring and fiddling with it. "We were just starting to get really involved with the wedding planning—half a year in, you know."

She was quiet for a while, eyes no longer shining and no longer smiling. Before Draco could decide how best to deal with this, however, she had brushed it off and started talking about the wedding.

"My sister was going to be my only attendant—Eric wanted each of us to have something like five or more, But I lost touch with a lot of people once I went to America, and then I'd have to pick some over others. You know how it is. So it was just going to be Daphne."

"I didn't know you were close."

"We're not, but that's what sister's do. They stand up for you."

Draco shrugged. He was positive Daph never stood up for her sister at Hogwarts. He hardly remembered that she existed.

"—and I was having trouble figuring out the flowers,"

Draco wasn't sure how long he had been distracted, or how long Astoria had been talking again.

"But then I had definitely decided on whole bouquets of freesia—it smells so wonderful, you know? And if they were yellow, they'd match perfect with this grey I had picked out—"

But she finally seemed to have noticed that Draco's eyes had glazed over and that he wasn't looking at her any more. Not even two weeks of isolation could prepare him to talk about wedding colors and floral arrangements.

"Sorry, got a little carried away," she said. "It's nice to have someone to talk to."

Draco nodded.

"I take it you don't care about weddings."

"Not really, no."

"So what do you care about?" she asked, focusing all her attention on him in that contemplative way he had noticed in her the day before.

"What?"

"You know, what interests you. What you like to do. What you can talk about."

He stared at her, sensing that the time had finally come when he wasn't going to be allowed to just listen anymore. What was he supposed to say? That he wasn't interested in much of anything? That close to the last decade had all been a blur of survival? That he still felt like he was barely holding it together?

"Quidditch. I like quidditch."

"Which team?"

"The Wasps. Seems they've got it together this year."

"I see."

"You watch much quidditch?"

"Just a little, but I like Yorkshire, and they got knocked out pretty early."

They were silent, and Astoria fiddled with her ring some more.

"What else would you do outside of work?"

Draco shrugged. "I was working a lot. I usually only had time for a drink or two, and then I'd look over papers the rest of the night. Sometimes I'd catch a game if it was on the wireless."

"Were you still living at Malfoy Manor?"

"No, I had a flat just outside Diagon Alley. It made it easier when I needed to get to the Ministry or when I traveled for work. I was hardly there, really. They might not even realize I'm missing."

"Who hasn't realized you're missing?"

"My parents," Draco said, feeling a little self-conscious that the only people who knew him well enough to worry about him was his parents.

"And wait—why not?"

"I told you, I've been traveling for work. I'd be gone for months at a time, there's no telling if they'll worry or just think I've gone off for a while."

"Do you do that a lot? Go off for a while?"

He shrugged again. "Sometimes."

"Where do you go?"

"Just around. I'd usually stay in England. It's a little hard for me to get a portkey approved when it isn't for business."

"Why's that?"

He looked at her incredulously.

"What—? Oh. Oh right." Her eyes fell unconsciously to his left arm, which he immediately slid off the table and down to his side.

He was telling her a lot more than he should, he thought. He should have started asking her more questions.

"Have you been anywhere else besides America?" he asked, and her eyes flicked back up to his face, looking just a tiny bit guilty, aware that she had just been rude.

Merlin, she was easy to read.

"Yeah, I spent a lot of time taking trips to South America. Beautiful landscape there, you know…"

And Draco didn't have to worry about avoiding questions for the rest of the day.

Astoria, it seemed, was eager to recover the relaxed way they had talked before. So she talked faster and more animatedly, and eventually Draco relaxed as they moved into lunch and played exploding snap again—although now it was starting to lose its appeal.

At dinner they were quiet, Astoria's voice sounding a little scratchy from overuse. But she didn't ask him to say anything again, and he found that he enjoyed being able to sit in silence.

* * *

**Day 7**

At the end of a week, it seemed that Astoria had finally run out of stories to tell about her life, family, or recent adventures, and had equally given up on prying information out of an unwilling Draco. When the silence became unbearable, the two of them—but let's be honest. It was Astoria's idea—decided to run through the spells they knew, with Astoria eventually coming up with a rather entertaining game.

One person would say a duelling spell, and the other would have just ten seconds to respond with what the spell does and to give another spell. When someone couldn't remember what a spell did or couldn't think of another spell, they lost.

This provided hours of entertainment, broken up only briefly conversations about where they had learned it, how it worked, and so on.

The game started to get uncomfortable, however, on the second day, when Astoria started asking questions and added that they had to say where they had seen the spell.

"Expecto Patronum," Draco said.

"Produces a Patronus, made of happy thoughts and which protects against dementors. Levi—wait, can you do a Patronus?"

"No, that's ridiculous. And you haven't given me another spell."

"I will in a minute. And it's not ridiculous. I learned at Hogwarts with Neville Longbottom."

"Your time's running up, Greengrass." Draco said, counting the seconds off on his fingers for her to see. "And there's no way Longbottom could produce a Patronus at school."

"Fine, Levicorpus. He can, and he did, _and_ he taught me and several others how to when the Carrows were there. I swear everyone knew that."

"Levicorpus lifts your opponent in the air by his ankle. I'm sorry, I try to block out the sound whenever I hear people praising Longbottom. Sectumsempra."

"What shape do you think your Patronus would take?"

"No idea. Probably something horrible like a ferret, knowing my luck—Stop laughing, damn it, and answer the spell!"

She was still giggling when she asked, "Sectumsempra, right? No idea. You win. You deserve it."

Winning only sort of assuaged his pride. He was rankled that he had let himself refer to the ferret incident, and he wondered if he would have thought about it if he hadn't been in this stupid prison for three weeks.

But there was something about this particular small room, or perhaps something about being alone with only a person like Astoria, that made him feel like everything he thought and felt was already known. It was incredibly disconcerting.

And yet he found that—whether it was the room or Astoria—he _wanted_ to be honest with her and to feel free enough admit something like getting turned into a ferret.

But that was complete rubbish. Clearly a sign that they were doing something to his brain in this place, and that he needed to fight the feeling as best he could.

"You never told me what Sectumsempra does."

"It cuts open your chest and face and you bleed out."

She stopped laughing. "That's disgusting. You haven't seen it, have you?"

"Yeah, Potter almost killed me with it in sixth year," Draco said. "Everyone likes to think he's so perfect and everything, but he shot off this spell without knowing what it was, and he didn't even know how to undo it. If Snape hadn't been there—"

"Right! I remember, the whole school heard about it. I didn't really believe it was that serious. You know how Myrtle is."

"Well it bloody well was," Draco said. "I've still got a scar." And he pulled down the collar of his robes so that she could see the pale skin along his collarbone and the even paler scar that started at the left of his neck and moved down at an angle towards his opposite side, disappearing under his robes.

* * *

**Day 10**

"_Crucio_."

"The torturing curse. Do we really have to use dark curses?"

"It's all I can remember at this point."

They were lying on the floor after lunch, staring at the ceiling and playing the longest-running game so far. They'd been playing since after breakfast. But after four days of playing one version of the game or another, it was starting to lose its appeal.

That, and Draco was getting a little jumpy with all the personal questions coming up.

"Fine. _Duro_. When was the last time you saw the Cruciatus performed, anyway?"

"Malfoy Manor, Easter break of seventh year." He said automatically. His chest constricted after he said it, and he cursed how he couldn't seem to filter his words anymore. He avoided catching Astoria's eye as she sat up and looked at him, and he did his best to look incredibly bored. He didn't think she was fooled.

"You haven't answered my spell. I said _Duro."_

"It turns you to stone. Molly Weasley killed Bellatrix Lestrange with it," he said, relieved.

They didn't say anything for a while, but Draco could still feel her staring at him.

"Do you ever miss your aunt?"

"Bellatrix? No. She was unpredictable." He wasn't even bothered sharing this information. He was still reeling from mentioning the Event he never thought about and the drawing room he and his parents still avoided.

"Was it weird having an aunt like her? I mean, we all have crazy family members, but she was, well—" Astoria seemed to realize what she was saying and turned a little red. She lay back down and stared at the ceiling.

"It was—an adjustment," said Draco finally. "She put us in constant contact with the Dark Lord, more so than we would have been. That meant you had to be alert all the time." He was unpredictable, too.

"Did you talk to her much?"

"Just when she wanted something, I guess. She did teach me Occlumency."

"Why?"

"She didn't trust Snape. Honestly, it was probably the best thing I learned…" he trailed off, thinking about how much it had helped to be able to keep his thoughts to himself from his parents, Snape, the Dark Lord. It was still his best defense.

They were silent again, each in their own thoughts.

"How do you handle thinking back to the war?" she asked.

"I don't know. I don't think about it much."

"I try and be thankful," Astoria said, yawning. "I had really awful nightmares for the first year or so, but then I realized I still had my family, both my parents, my friends, and by then Eric was around."

She looked at him again.

"You _have_ to think about it sometimes. It was awful for everyone, maybe even more so for you."

He let himself look at her against his better judgment. "I just don't think about it. That's what I do."

"How?"

"Occlumency. It's all about emptying your mind. And when you do, you don't have to remember."

"Hm."

"Have you ever tried it?"

"I learned the basics, but I never got very good. I'm not sure I'd like forgetting everything."

"You're not forgetting. You're just not remembering."

"Can you feel anything when you do that?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't think that's a very bad thing."

"I do. Life is about feeling, experiencing. You can't do that if you are shut down all the time."

"It works for me," said Draco, and he got off the floor. "I'll give you this round, Greengrass." And he walked to the bookshelves.

Astoria had a distinct feeling that he was running away.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All familiar characters, etc., belong to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

**Day 10**

After that last game of spells, Draco managed to avoid Astoria and her awful knack of asking questions for the rest of the day. In fact, they didn't speak until the lamp had flickered off and both of them were ready for sleep, Draco enjoying the soft feel of the bed while Astoria lay in a heap of blankets and pillows on the floor.

"Draco?" Astoria asked once the lights were shut off and the two of them lay staring up into the darkness.

"Hm."

"Just wanted to say—" she yawned— "Sorry if I was prying too much. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Don't worry about it."

"All right. So you'll stop avoiding me tomorrow?"

"Good night, Astoria."

He didn't sleep well. Instead of the dreamless sleep he was used to, he found himself standing in the drawing room, a familiar high-pitched voice screaming and yelling curses while his parents screamed in pain. He could feel the pain shooting through his whole body, too, so that he begged the Dark Lord to kill him. Eventually, the pain stopped and moved on to his Aunt Bella, and he heard her screaming, pleading.

Somehow scrambling to his feet, he ran from the drawing room to the front door, leaving his parents, his aunt, and the Dark Lord behind him. Stumbling in the yard and still sure he could hear his parents, he realized that he was not in the gardens that surrounded Malfoy Manor but was instead on the crumbling grounds of Hogwarts. Spells and curses were flying around him and over him, and he reached for his wand—his stomach dropped, and he could feel himself panicking.

He didn't have a wand. He was in the middle of a battle without a damn wand.

So he ran, dodging spells and looking desperately for a place to hide and hating the fear that rose up in him and the voice that told him he was a coward. Finding an open door, he flung himself into an empty room, closing the door and leaning against it with relief. But he could already feel the heat coming from behind him, and the panic started over again.

He tried the door, but it was locked—just as he knew it would be. The fire scorched the side of his neck, and he turned to see lions and chimeras of fire lunging in the air, enveloping stack after stack of dry and brittle hidden belongings. He could see Crabbe and Goyle running towards him, the fire at their heels. He knew Crabbe wouldn't make it. He'd seen it a hundred times.

And he knew what came next.

His parents were running towards him, the fire at their heels. He knew he needed to save them, and he knew he couldn't because his feet were stuck to the floor and the door was locked anyway.

Someone else was calling his name, too, and Draco saw to his dismay that it was Astoria. She had fallen, and she had reached out an arm towards him, asking him to help her. He tried moving, but he couldn't. He screamed at her to run, to get up, but she just kept crying as the fire rose up—

"Draco!"

He jolted awake, drenched in sweat and twisted up in the sheets. Opening his eyes, he couldn't see anything in the pitch black, but he was aware that someone was sitting on the bed next to him, and that they were rubbing his arm.

"What—What—?"

"You were, um, talking in your sleep," Astoria said, and he felt the nervous twitch of her fingers on his arm. "You sounded upset, and you wouldn't wake up for a minute there."

But Draco was only half listening. He had turned towards the nightstand, his hand scrambling for a lamp, knowing that there had to be a light, _there had to be a light_.

"Here," Astoria said, and she reached over to the stand, too, grabbed a match and lit it. Seeing her face, he saw that she didn't look upset or agitated, but rather that she looked calm, if only a tad concerned. She looked as if she did this every day.

Day 11

Looking at Draco over the lit match, Astoria could see the panic in his stressed face, and the way the light seemed to illuminate reality for him and put distance between him and the nightmare. His breathing was evening out, and she could see the muscles in his face relax as he sank back on the pillows.

She lit a candle and set it on the nightstand.

"I think I see why you like Occlumency so much," she said, putting a hand on his arm again.

He immediately tensed, so she withdrew it.

"Hey, it's okay," she said softly, and she began rubbing his arm again, deciding to ignore the way he bristled. "Everything's fine. Nothing is wrong here."

"We're locked in a prison with no idea why we're here and what they're going to do with us," he scoffed, but his voice sounded scratchy. "Yeah, everything's fine."

"Everything you were just worrying about is fine," she said. She noticed that he wasn't as tense now.

"How do you know?"

"Well," she resituated on the bed as she spoke, noticing that Draco had opened his eyes and was looking at her again. "Tom Riddle is dead—really dead—and so is your aunt, and there's no fire here. And your parents are alive and at home. They aren't in pain, they aren't suffering."

She saw the panic in his eyes and how he looked strangely vulnerable, terrified of what he had said in his sleep and how hearing that gave her power over him. She moved her hand to the side of his head, brushing back his hair and cupping the side of his face.

"It's all right, Draco. I promise you. Everything's all right. Please relax, love. You're starting to worry me."

Perhaps it was the way she refused to acknowledge that she had leverage over him now, but he closed his eyes.

She could see him struggling to let go of the last bit of panic.

"There, that's better," she said, rubbing her thumb along his cheek. "Everything's fine here." She tried to remember what words had helped her after nightmares in the year after the war, and then continued, "Your parents are better and healed, and so are you."

He breathed deeply, and Astoria thought with relief that he had finally calmed down.

"My parents aren't better," he said with a sigh. "My father's dying."

He opened his eyes, and Astoria was sure that he could see her concern in her frown and knit brow.

"He had some injuries—some curses that most people aren't familiar with—that weakened his heart. He has maybe a year."

He didn't look upset about it, but Astoria had gotten a taste of how much he cared for his family and what he didn't let himself think about. She could feel the dread that whispered to her that they may not get out of this prison in time. It brought a lump to her throat.

When she lifted her head to look at Draco through her few tears, she saw a spark of his old panic coming back.

"Scoot over," she said, and pushed him a little so that there was room for her between him and the edge of the bed. She curled up next to him, carefully resting her head on his chest.

"I'm sorry about your father," she said.

She wasn't sure how long they lay there, but she felt his breathing deepen as he fell asleep.

* * *

Draco woke the next morning to the sound of a ticking clock. For a moment he thought he was in his old flat, but then he opened his eyes and saw the cinderblock white walls of their room.

He had had the most unsettling dream, he thought. The Event, the fire—those were typical—but Astoria…

And then he noticed that the space of bed next to him was warm, as though someone had just been lying there. He shot up in bed, squinting in the unusually bright light.

"Sleep ok?" Astoria asked. She was sitting at the table with the biggest grin. "There's a real spread of food today. You'll never believe it. Cinnamon rolls! I could die happy." And she took a sip of tea.

"I wonder why….maybe because we slept in? Or maybe it's Saturday and they make better food on the weekend. It's weird not knowing the day of the week."

But Draco wasn't listening. He was trying to remember last night and what had happened. He thought he remembered telling Astoria about his father, but that couldn't be right. He'd never do that. And he thought he remembered her crying, and maybe her brushing his hair—he was delusional, he decided. He'd been in this room too long.

"Are you alright?" Astoria asked, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed, brows knitted in concern.

Draco was having the worst sense of déjà vu.

"Because it seemed like you slept ok after I woke you up. You hardly moved," she continued.

And Draco finally had to acknowledge that Astoria had indeed woken him up from a nightmare last night, and that he had told her more than he should have, and that she had been—comforting? Yes, he supposed that was the right word. This broke so many of the codes Draco followed to keep from bringing back unpleasant feelings and memories that he could feel the panic rising again, and he instinctively brought his face down to his hands in hopes of rubbing it away.

"Hey, hey. Calm down, love," said Astoria as she put a hand on his arm.

He shook her off irritably.

"Hey," she said again, and lifted his face so that he had to look at her. "What's wrong? Everything's fine, I promise."

He would have scoffed at her—yelled at her, probably—but her eyes said something more complex. They held a knowing that showed grief and sympathy. He was even tempted to believe that she understood how he felt.

In the moment when he was deciding if he believed her or not, Astoria placed a cup of tea in his hands, saying, "Drink this. It'll help wake you up. And really, you have to have some of this breakfast. It's amazing."

He drank a sip of tea, and then grimaced. It was Astoria's tea, so it was overly sweet and creamy.

"Sorry, I forgot you don't like cream and sugar. I'll get you your own cup." She was already at the table pouring him one when he stumbled out of bed.

"Why's it so bright?" he asked.

"We got a window. And a clock." She put what appeared to be a second cinnamon roll on her plate and served him one, too. "No idea why."

Breakfast was sweet and sticky, with a healthy side of eggs and sausage and a full pot of tea instead of the half they had been getting every morning. As he ate and as his eyes adjusted to the bright light, Draco noticed that they had indeed gotten a long and high window along the back wall. All he could see through it was sky, however. Along with that, a clock had appeared on the wall farthest from them, saying that it was 9:30 in the morning.

Now with a full stomach and a bit of caffeine, Draco's head was starting to clear, too, and his brain was in overdrive trying figure out what exactly had happened last night, and where exactly that put him with Astoria. He wished more than anything that he could leave—even if it meant going back to that small and dirty room where he had been alone.

Alone was good, he thought, even if it left you with some unpleasant options of things to think about. Occlumency was harder when there was absolutely nothing to distract you from the thoughts you were trying to shut out.

_But that's not a problem now, _he thought. _I just have to empty my mind…think about nothing…think—_

Astoria had reached across the table to touch his hand, breaking his concentration. He jerked his hand away, feeling unsettled and irritated.

"What are you doing?"

He didn't answer her and tried to concentrate, eyes staring blankly at the new clock.

"Hey, are you really trying Occlumency right now?" She sounded a little exasperated.

He grimaced. "And what's wrong with me doing that?"

"I don't know, because it's a lot nicer talking to a real person instead of someone determined not to think and feel anything."

"Yeah well, unless you feel like listening to nightmares—" he bit back the rest of his words, berating himself. The proper response would have been a simple "piss off."

That was what he should say now. But instead he rubbed the side of his face with his hand. "And what would you have me do, Astoria? Since you seem to know everything."

She went for his hand again, but he shot his away from her like he had burned himself.

"Don't you trust me?" she asked half joking.

"No." Looking at her, though, with her concerned face, and remembering how she had cried and how easily her emotions surfaced to be read on her face, he was starting to think he did.

And she seemed to know this, too, and that unsettled him even more. Maybe he was easier to read than he thought.

Astoria shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Well, I don't blame you. But," she went for his hand again, and this time he grimaced but let her hold it, "please _please_ don't get all closed down again. I've talked myself out, and I could really use a friend here, too." She squeezed his hand.

Before he could decide if he was ok with any part of this conversation, Astoria stood up and stared resolutely at the window.

"Hey, do you think you could lift me up so that I could see outside?"

He was doubtful, but they walked over to the window to stare at it together as soon as their breakfast disappeared. It was about seven feet wide and only two feet tall, but the bottom ledge was well over their heads—maybe nine feet up. It wasn't centered on the back wall either but was pushed off to the side so that half of it was over the bed and the other half shone light on a previously-ignored corner of the room between the bed and wall. It wasn't a small area—perhaps five feet, but it had no furniture except for the nightstand by the bed.

"If you give me a lift up, I can lean against the wall and pull myself up to on the bottom ledge," Astoria said.

Draco said he thought it might still be too high, but Astoria insisted.

Kneeling near under the window, Draco laced his fingers together, and Astoria placed her foot in the hand hold. Draco carefully stood, bracing himself against the wall. He watched Astoria hoist herself up, using his shoulders for support and then stretching her hands up towards the window. Just when Astoria's fingers should have reached the window's ledge, however, Draco thought that the wall got higher, placing the window just out of reach. Astoria tottered as her fingers missed the ledge, and Draco had to lean hard against the wall to stay steady.

"What happened?" Draco asked, now straining a little to look up.

"I don't know, it just—got out of reach. Can you give me another inch?"

I don't think so, I'd have to stand on something," Draco said, precariously looking around the room and not finding anything easy to grab beside the chairs on the other side of the room. "Can you stand on my shoulders?"

"Not sure," she said, and he felt her scramble against the wall as she tried to step from his hands to his shoulder. A very bony foot pressed into a soft spot on his shoulder.

"Ow, watch it!"

"Sorry! It's just—without hand holds on the wall—"

He felt her start to lose her balance as her one foot stayed in its painful spot on his shoulder and her other foot swung wildly behind her.

"Get down! You're going to fall," he ordered, still wincing.

"No, I've almost got it, just got another inch—" but with a scream, she started to fall away from the wall. As her weight finally left his shoulder, he saw her falling as though in slow motion in front of him. He managed to turn and catch her, but not well enough to prevent them both falling and sprawling on the floor.

Sitting up and rubbing his shoulder, he said, "That was a terrible idea."

"It would have been fine if the window hadn't moved," said Astoria, sitting up, too, and rubbing her bum, which had gotten the brunt of the fall.

"The window moved?"

"Yeah, the whole wall got taller so that I couldn't reach the window. Both times."

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I don't think I hurt anything. Probably going to have a fantastic bruise, though."

"Like I said, it was a terrible idea."

"Then why'd you help?" she asked crossly.

She leaned her back against the wall with the clock, and Draco could see her disappointment. "I really wanted to see outside," she added, more to herself.

Draco leaned against the wall, too. "Maybe they'll let us after we've been here for a while."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they've been slowly giving us more privileges, see? So maybe that will be the next one."

She stared across the room, thinking about this. "I hadn't thought of that."

This was obvious. You could read her face like a book.

"Do you think there are others here? More than just me and you?"

"I don't know, "he said. "I wouldn't be surprised, I guess. We passed a lot of doors coming from my old room to here."

"Yeah, I did, too."

They sat thinking for a minute.

"Do you think they'll kill us?" she asked.

"No. Remember what Gerard said? We're guests or something. And this room was clearly created to be lived in."

"So how long do you think they plan on keeping us?"

"No idea. Probably a long time. Seems like they are enjoying eking out gifts and stuff, doesn't it?"

Astoria nodded. "I hate it. Makes me feel manipulated."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Hey, um," Astoria looked nervously at him.

Draco braced himself for something feeling-y.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for waking you up last night, and I'm sorry for kind of pushing you over breakfast. I'll leave you alone if you want me to."

She looked so embarrassed and so nervous and so obviously afraid that he was going to tell her to leave him alone. He sighed.

"Just don't make a habit of it, Greengrass," he said, being careful to look bored as he examined the patterned carpeting. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her beaming, and he felt more irritated than anything else.

* * *

**Day 12**

"Wish there was something to read," Astoria said. They were laying on the floor at the foot of the bed again, and Astoria had just lost the most recent game of spells. They were so bored they had resorted to swapping cleaning spells.

It had been a short game.

"You know there are actually books over there."

"Yeah, and have you read them?"

"Some. Pretty boring," Draco said.

"Yes, and heretical. It's all talk about how much better a pureblood is and how muggle-borns steal magic and how animalistic muggles are and how they are a completely different species."

"Typical."

"And ridiculous. They've found the DNA that carries magical ability. So it's not a different species, it's more like a genetic mutation."

"Yeah it's what muggles called junk DNA, right?"

Astoria sat up and looked at him. "Yeah, but how did you know that?"

He shrugged. "I had to take a course on muggles and muggle-borns as a part of my sentence agreement." He felt his heart constrict on saying this, as if his body felt the need to remind him that personal information was not something he shared.

He ignored it and waited tensely for Astoria's response.

"I thought you weren't sentenced to anything."

He relaxed. The part of him that wanted to be honest crowed with victory at how painless sharing this information had been. "The Daily Prophet made it sound like that, but I did get convicted of criminal mischief."

"Yeah, I guess it wouldn't do to let you entirely off the hook," she joked.

He looked at her like he wasn't sure if he should be wary or not.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Hey, I know what we can do."

She jumped up and grabbed a book off the shelf. "Let's read through and provide opposing evidence for everything they say."

She opened the book to the first chapter. "Oh, this is too easy. It says, 'muggle-borns who have demonstrated magic ability, however gathered, find themselves at a disadvantage in both education and the workplace. Weaker magical ability, a dimmer mind, and a lack of control all contribute to their mediocre results and efforts….' And so on. So, how many smart muggleborns can you think of? I'll go first. Penelope Clearwater."

"Hermione Granger."

"Really? I wasn't sure you could admit it. I remember how much you hated her."

"She still got perfect OWLS and NEWTS."

"Right. Um, Kendra Dumbledore." Astoria turned the page. "That was pretty easy. Now what about the idea that muggles are animalistic? It's just mentioned in this chapter."

Draco shrugged. "I've never actually been around many muggles. Just on the street."

"Well, Eric was muggleborn, and I got to know his parents and sister really well. They were completely normal. They just listened to different music and had a different way of going about chores. They're quite ingenious, really. Do you know how a dishwasher works?"

Draco shook his head. Astoria obliged, then, with in explanation of a box that shoots water over dishes and how they use little packets of a cleaning agent that dissolves in the water and makes them clean. She went on to describe how gas stoves ignite, and how air-conditioning works.

Towards the end of a story about how she first learned about air-conditioning, something seemed to quiet her down.

"Do you think he'll wait for me?" she asked, fiddling with her ring.

"Who?"

"Eric, of course."

"Oh." He hadn't expected this turn in conversation.

He looked at her with her brown hair that was always just a touch out of place, her brown eyes with more than a touch of green in them. He remembered the goofy, mischievous look that had been on her face just moments before, as if debunking lies on blood purity was the most rebellious thing they could do, and he remembered the way concern and grief played so freely over her features by the light of a match just a night before. And he thought that if Eric could trust her the way he was sure he already did after hardly a two weeks, he would be a fool not to wait.

"Of course," he said, and was immediately rewarded by how her eyes lit up. "I mean, we haven't even been gone a month. Don't be ridiculous."

"I wasn't talking about just now," she said, dropping her eyes to the book on her lap. "I mean, what if we don't get out of here? We've already been here a month without hardly seeing anyone. They could keep us here for years, or just kill us the next time they walk in. We can't do anything."

"But they know you're missing, which is probably farther than they've gotten with me. And I bet he's already arranged some sort of gala in your honor to help find you or something equally…enthusiastic."

She laughed. "Yeah, that does sound like him."

But she was already thinking about how swiftly Jasper had arrived and taken her from the alley just outside her door. He would have left no sign of his presence. His French organization wasn't even that well known, she thought, and she had no connection with them.

She looked at Draco and thought that he knew, too, that the chances of them being discovered were slim. She could feel the tears starting to rise up, so she shook them back determinedly.

"I'm glad you're here," she said, aware that her voice sounded thick. "It's a good distraction." She looked up at him to see him staring at her with an expression she didn't understand. There was sympathy—a new emotion for him, she guessed—but there was also something—something that made her feel embarrassed. He looked like he was about to say something, and then changed his mind.

She looked away. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—." She shook her head to clear out whatever thought she'd left half-formed. "Let's see what rubbish they've put in Chapter Two. Looks like it's about the phenomenon of Squibs."

* * *

**Day 13**

"Hey look, they took away our _On Magical Blood and Muggles _book," Astoria said, pulling another book off the shelf.

They had just sat in front of the bookshelf to start again debunking lies on blood purity when they realized that the shelves were completely rearranged. Not only were some books missing, but others had appeared in their place.

"Apparently we can't be trusted with books on pureblood philosophy," Draco said, his eyes looking greedily at the back cover of a new book on quidditch. "You'd think we'd be the perfect pupils."

"Do you think they are trying to condition us like that?" Astoria asked, looking up from a game which seemed to involve memory.

"Well, if so they've just figured out it won't work."

"It makes sense for me—I was the rebel child placed in the wrong house. But you—you were the golden boy of the pureblood community. Do you think they're hoping you'll influence me?" she joked.

"I think—" Draco began, and it might have been the way this small room made him feel like his thoughts were known and spoken anyway, or perhaps it was the way Astoria managed to be pleasant and genuine and always painfully truthful— he continued, "I think I'm tired of trying to influence anybody."

He expected the constricting feeling of saying too much. He wasn't expecting Astoria's swift kiss on his cheek.

When he looked at her, a blush had come up over her cheeks.

"Sorry," she said, nervously waving her left hand. "Not appropriate." She looked around wildly. "What does your book say about the Wasps?"

He shook his head and read the opening paragraph to her.

* * *

**Day 15**

They began their second week together reading and re-reading the books from the shelf. Astoria poured over some muggle book that Draco was pretty sure was put there to demonstrate how uncivilized muggles were while Draco read through _Quidditch Through the Ages_, although he'd already read it when he was at Hogwarts. A notebook had also appeared on the shelf, and Astoria was taking furious notes now, too. She'd hardly stopped for meals and was apparently re-reading sections as avidly as a seventh-year studying for their NEWTS.

"What the hell are you reading?" Draco asked, annoyed by the constant scratching of her quill.

"It's a book on medicine." She didn't look up as she said it.

"On what?"

"It's like potions for muggles. This whole book is—give me a sec," she said, apparently finding something too interesting to stop reading.

Draco tapped his fingers loudly on the edge of the table, glaring across it to Astoria.

"There. Sorry," she put the book down. "It's a book on first aid, which is a muggle term for, you know, healing injuries outside of a hospital. So it's got all this information on how to clean a wound, how to dress it, medicine you can take—which I didn't understand very well—and even how to handle broken bones, knocked out teeth and deep cuts and things. It's absolutely fascinating."

"When did you find Healing so interesting, anyway? I thought you went to America to study potions."

"I did, but before I went, I had spent some time beginning training as a healer." She picked up the book again.

Draco tapped his fingers loudly again, but she didn't seem to notice. He sighed. "Well," he said, making sure he sounded irritated, "Why did you quit?"

"Being a healer? I'm not very good in high-stress situations. And—I don't know. I just wasn't very happy there. I didn't find it satisfying."

"You. You didn't find helping people and healing them satisfying."

"Well," and now she blushed. "It—it was a pretty low-level position that I went for, and I thought maybe it would be better for someone with my skillset to travel a little more. You know, take on something more ambitious."

"Your skillset, huh? Yeah, that sounds like something you'd say," Draco drawled, carefully examining his nails.

Astoria had started squirming in her seat. Draco smirked.

"Well, fine. If you must know, Eric suggested that I go abroad. He believed a lot in my abilities as a potioneer."

Draco thought she looked a little guilty about this even through her matter-of-fact explanation.

"And? Was life as a potioneer as satisfying as 'Eric' said it would be?"

She pretended not to notice his sarcasm and devoted herself to the overly-honest and thorough responses Draco had learned to expect from her. "It was interesting, definitely. Hard work, but I got to see a lot more, visit a lot more places. I think…" she stared across the room obviously weighing two options. "Yeah, I think I definitely liked Louisiana the best. It's got this really slow pace, even in the cities, that was definitely different than the life in the north." She was still looking away from him, avoiding eye contact. "You ever been to America?"

"Usually just to Boston. Or maybe for some trades in New York. I never really liked it."

"Well, you'll have to go to Louisiana for a little. It's god-awful hot, but I just loved Baton Rouge. There was so much Spanish moss. Do you know what it looks like?"

Draco shook his head.

"Here, I'll show you." She pulled out the sketchbook she had put next to her notes—Draco hadn't realized it had been on the shelf, too. "So you've got these huge, beautiful old trees." She drew a rather wobbly looking tree, as though her fingers weren't sure how to remember drawing. "And then, of course you've got all their leaves—" a few flicks of the quill put leaves where she wanted them. "And then the Spanish moss is this beautiful, almost shawl-like gray stuff that's all curly and knit together, and it's just draped over all the branches, hanging down —" she paused as she dedicated her efforts to the curly swirls of Spanish moss in the branches.

"There. That looks—well, not right. It's a lot prettier than that, and something about it reminded me of home. But that's the general idea, anyway."

Draco had first looked over at the page skeptically, but now he unconsciously closed his book as he leaned across the table to look at her sketch. The drawing wasn't world-quality, but her lines were sure and sharp—once she had remembered how to hold the quill—and Draco got the distinct impression that this was a more practical depiction of Spanish moss than most would have created.

'And it's all over the place you said?"

"Yeah, you'll be walking along the sidewalk and then look up and see it hanging everywhere above you. I wish I could do a better job, but—" She grimaced to herself, fiddling with her ring. "I know I'm not very good…more of a practical sketcher, anyway, but—"

"It's good," he said, and picked it up to look at it better.

Over the top of the paper, he saw her eyes glow in appreciation.

"Hey, I've got an idea," she took the sketchpad back and opened it to a new page. "Where is a place you love to go?"

"What?"

"I mean what place do you want me to draw?"

Draco stared at the blank page for a while, hearing only the clock tick across the room. "Well," he said, looking a little uncomfortable, "There's this castle in Wales. Cardiff. Have you been there?"

"Um, it's right on the coast, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Ok, I remember. It's up on a little hill, right?" She drew out a little hill on the blank page. "And it's kind of asymmetrical, with a main tower right at the front." She sketched out, and both of them were quiet as she filled out the page with her careful quill strokes.

"What do you think?" she held it up to him.

He smiled. "It's good." She'd captured the gothic look of the battlements, and the stone walkway that led away from it. "Now you pick another one."

At the end of an hour, they had the silhouette of Hogwarts, the lobby in the Ministry of Magic, the dignified façade of the Greengrass home and stables, and the equally festive-looking Hogwarts Great Hall.

They decided to put them up on the walls, but realized they couldn't without tape or tacks. They settled with simply leaving the book open on the table.

* * *

**Day 16**

They were eating dinner quietly the next day, looking in turns at the sketches when Astoria asked, "So what did you like about Cardiff?"

"Hmm?"

"Cardiff. You had me draw the castle."

"Oh. I'm not sure."

He would have left it at that, but Astoria stubbornly waited for him to elaborate.

He fought back a grimace and continued, "I went there when I was young with my parents." It was still a little difficult to knowingly reveal personal information, but he found he was adjusting to it.

"What did you do there?"

He shrugged. "We looked at the castle, met a few of the ghosts there." He put his fork down and leaned back. "When we were by the shops, Dad got me a new broom. A nice one."

"Hm. So is that the first place you'd go when you get out of here?"

"Probably not. I haven't been there in years. When were you there?"

"My mum had a cousin who lived near Bristol. Her kids and I would take a boat to Cardiff and wander by the castle and pretend it was the middle ages. It was loads of fun until Daphne caught us. And you didn't answer my question. Where is the first place you'll go when we leave?"

"I don't know. I hadn't thought of it."

"Well, what did you think of all that time you were by yourself, then?"

"I didn't really think of anything."

"Hm." She had stopped eating, as if trying to interpret Draco's bland answers was more entertaining than the pasta on her plate. "I don't believe you. There was to be some place that you'd like to see."

He sighed. "Fine. I'd probably first want to go to Malfoy Manor. Make sure my parents are all right."

The awkwardness forming in the air was almost tangible at the mention of his parents and the unspoken worry over his father. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, then continued, "And I've always liked the grounds at the manor."

Astoria, however, didn't look the least fazed. Instead, Draco noticed rather resignedly that Astoria's eyes were shining like she was going to cry. Thankfully, she didn't say anything horribly comforting, and instead asked, "What do you like about the grounds?"

"We've got a lot of land with a lot of trees—like little forests around all the pasture—and there's this pond a little way's off that's got a stone bridge. I'd jump off into the water, or, you know, use it as a launching place for flying."

"It sounds lovely. I'll have to draw it next." She started flipping through the book of sketches again. "Can you draw?"

"No, I never really wanted to."

"You never wanted to or your father thought it was impractical?."

He grimaced. But the honest answer? "Both, I'd say."

He was relieved when she didn't feel the need to ask another question. "So, where would you go first?"

She looked up from the book. "After seeing Eric? Oh, probably muggle London. It's beautiful, and if you're careful, you can fly up to the roof of a building and watch the whole town come alive once the sun sets. It's lovely."

"Is that where Eric would take you?" he asked, taking care to say Eric's name with dislike.

"No, I would just go on my own."

Draco took a bite of his food, strangely cheered by the revelation.

"What do you hate him so much anyway?"

"Who?"

"Eric. You said you've never met him. Have you?"

He shrugged. "I doubt I'd remember if I had. But I don't think so."

"So why do you dislike him so much?"

Something in him constricted as a warning, telling him that this wasn't a safe question. He shrugged it off and told the truth. "I don't know. He just seems…a little full of himself."

Astoria laughed.

He glared at her. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that, well, coming from you…"

He gritted his teeth. "Well? Is he?"

"Yes he is, if you must know. I'm not ashamed to admit it. But we've all got flaws, and that's just one of his." She was still smiling, and Draco wondered for a moment why he bothered talking to her at all.

He made a point of ignoring her the rest of the night, spending time instead reading over the Hogwarts book. She appeared perfectly fine with this and went back to scribbling furious notes on muggle potions at the table.

When the lights flickered, Astoria was still feverishly writing. Draco, meanwhile was laying on the bed—it was his night to sleep on the bed again—thinking about quidditch and how much he itched for a night of flying. It was great for clearing the head.

Why did he hate Eric Heartwood so much, anyway? Probably because he was a Hufflepuff. He usually hated Hufflepuffs. Except Astoria, because apparently she was a damn exception to everything.

The lamp went out, and Draco heard Astoria come over and settle down in the mess of pillows and blankets they had designated for whoever got the floor. He fell asleep still feeling rankled and counting all the ways Astoria had managed to make herself an exception, from being so freely emotional and making him talk, to drawing and—it was too frustrating to think about.

When he finally fell asleep, Astoria appeared in his dreams, too, but it wasn't about how she talked or how he liked her drawings. Instead he dreamed more about how soft her skin felt and how curved her figure was and how full her lips looked…and he woke up finally knowing exactly why he hated Eric Heartwood.


	4. Chapter 4

**Please review. Good things coming, I promise :)**

_Interview with Victim No. 4_

_September 30__th__, 2008_

_Those present: Ms. Hermione Granger, Office of Magical Law, interviewer_

**Ms. Granger**: Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. Are you comfortable? Here, have a cup of tea.

**Victim No. 4**: I'm comfortable, thank you.

**Ms. ****Granger**: Milk and sugar?

**Victim No. 4**: Yes, please.

**Ms. ****Granger**: All right, if you're ready, the quill right there will record our conversation. As soon as it enters the record, only you and I will be able to read the details of who you are.

**Victim No. 4**: I'm ready.

**Ms. ****Granger**: Okay, please tell me your full name and age.

**Victim No. 4**: Astoria Cassiopeia Greengrass, twenty-five.

**Ms. ****Granger**: All right, thank you. And do you know what date you were brought to the Community?

**Victim No. 4**: It was December 30th, 2004. I was on my way home from dinner at the Leaky Cauldron. They were somewhere between where I Apparate onto my street and my door. The details get a little hazy, you know.

**Ms. ****Granger**: And you lived in a muggle neighborhood, is that correct?

**Victim No. 4**: Yes, on the north end of town.

**Ms. ****Granger**: Right, thank you. And were you kept on your own at first?

**Victim No. 4**: Yes. The day count might be a little off, but I believe that it was around ten days. That's what I recorded, anyway.

**Ms. ****Granger**: I see. And who did you have contact with first?

**Victim No. 4**: Gerard. Do you know that we never learned his last name? What is it?

**Ms. ****Granger**: Oh, um, Bisset. Gerard Bisset.

**Victim No. 4**: Hmm. So strange, that we never knew. We wondered, but… Anyway, Gerard was very chatty. Kind, even. He actually reminded me a good bit of Professor Slughorn. Do you remember him?

**Ms. ****Granger**: Of course.

**Victim No. 4**: He was just a, um, generally happy person. He was very fatherly, like we were his spoiled children that he loved to dote on or something.

**Ms. ****Granger**: Were you afraid of him?

**Victim No. 4**: Not at all. I liked him instinctively, although I mistrusted the feeling simply because of where we were.

**Ms. ****Granger**: What did he say to you?

**Victim No. 4**: He apologized for my living conditions and said he didn't know about it or he would have come sooner. Something about a mix-up. He seemed genuinely distressed about it. And then he took me to this really big bathroom and told me he'd wait outside the door while I changed.

**Ms. ****Granger**: Were there any others? Any guards?

**Victim No. 4**: No, just him.

**Ms. ****Granger**: Did he _Imperio_ you, or—

**Victim No. 4**: No, nothing. He took my arm and sort of guided me like I was sick and needed a doctor. I spent a while trying to find a way out in the bathroom, but of course there wasn't anything. So I showered and changed, and he came in to get me, and then he took me to the new room.

**Ms. ****Granger**: Was the room empty?

**Victim No. 4**: It was sparse, but it felt like a palace compared to the dirt floor. No one else was in there.

**Ms. ****Granger**: How was it furnished?

**Victim No. 4**: I'll work my way around the room, starting on the right, all right?

**Ms. ****Granger**: All right.

**Victim No. 4**: When I walked through the door, there was a small table and two chairs on my right along the wall—the door was closer to this wall, you see. And then past that was a dresser—a tall one—and past that was a wall that came out maybe three feet. That hid the bathroom.

**Ms. ****Granger**: And past that?

**Victim No. 4**: There was the back wall with a nightstand, the bed, and another nightstand.

**Ms. ****Granger**: What about the third wall? The one on your left?

**Victim No. 4**: Nothing was on it. No furniture, and nothing on the wall.

**Ms. ****Granger**: And the wall the door was on?

**Victim No. 4**: There was a small bookcase with four shelves almost touching the wall to the left. And that was everything. It was really a very small room, thinking about it now.

**Day 19**

Draco's dreams didn't stop. Once they appeared, they seemed eager to stay and so littered his every sleeping moment so that he woke up frustrated two days in a row. Most irritating was his knowledge that, of all the things he had learned about Astoria, her faithful adoration of dear "Eric" wasn't going anywhere.

Astoria certainly noticed his irritation, and she even apologized for laughing at him in her overly-sincere way. He waved her off.

And more than ever he found himself distracted as they invented and played Floor Quidditch—with plates acting as goals and wads of paper from books on blood purity acting as a quaffle—and instead of making sure that the paper ball Astoria was forming into a quaffle was a perfect sphere, he found that he was looking at a lower neckline than he thought her robes had had before.

She noticed, and in her Astoria way, said, "Oh yeah, they've been altering my robes. Lower necklines, tighter bodices, that kind of thing. It's really annoying. Have they been changing yours?"

He sighed inwardly. "No."

They spent all morning playing their new game and perfecting its rules. Draco did his best to focus more on the game, and Astoria didn't mention it again.

It's not like he didn't consider simply asking her to stay in the bed with him one night. But unlike other girls, there was something else tied up with Astoria that made it more complicated. It _should_ have been simple. They were locked in a room without another soul, so it would make sense. But then she had to be head over heels for some idiot still in England, and she had to go and make whatever was between them feel more important.

Maybe he just didn't know what it was like to have friends anymore.

It perhaps would have been worth the gamble—worth whatever complicated thing between them becoming more complicated and messy—if he wasn't sure of what she would say. He remembered how she had looked—awkwardness mixed with pity—when he'd told her that Eric would wait for her.

She would say no with all the fluttering and embarrassment and pity in the world. And Draco didn't fancy the humiliation that would bring, especially since Astoria had a knack for reaching into some of his deeper and more vulnerable thoughts anyway.

Draco was pulled out of these gloomy thoughts by the sound of footsteps in the hall outside their door. Astoria had been about to throw the quaffle and stopped mid-swing, and both of them scrambled away from the door.

It was Jasper, which both of them found unsettling. In a swift motion, he and a second guard with a broad chest and blond hair grabbed Draco and dragged him out of the room, leaving Astoria yelling behind them.

With the door slamming behind them and cutting out Astoria's voice, the hall was deadly silent. They didn't let Draco stand but instead forced him to kneel, head down.

"So tell me, are you enjoying your little visit with us?"

"Not particularly," Draco managed, struggling under the weight of something pressing down on his neck and shoulders. It forced him to stay on his knees, doubled over and head down so that he could only see Jasper's feet.

"Too bad. Now listen, you little coward," Jasper knelt down so that Draco could see the rich material of his robes, the scruff of his chin, and could smell something like tar mixed with saltwater. "We've given you that lovely room and a big comfy bed, and the two of you aren't even sleeping in it together. So consider this your warning. You two better get very cozy—intimate, I'd say—or I'll lose patience."

Of all the things he had thought Jasper would say to him, this had not crossed his mind besides being a personal thorn in his side. His mind raced for a minute, trying to make some connection, until he realized that Jasper was waiting for a response.

"That sort of thing usually involves two people making a decision, not just one. What makes you think she'll go for that?" Draco said through clenched teeth. The weight was becoming unbearable, and he felt it draining his strength.

Jasper grunted in disagreement. "Man up. Make it happen."

"It's not going to work," Draco said, and received a kick in the stomach.

Jasper heaved Draco back to his feet, the weight disappearing, and threw him against the wall. Draco was so drained from the weight that he let his arms hang limply at his sides. Jasper was staring into his eyes, and Draco could feel the man's furious presence prodding at the edges of his mind.

Draco coughed out a laugh, his lungs still feeling deflated. "Go ahead. Try to see what I'm thinking."

Jasper's lips twisted as though he had eaten something sour and rotten. Grabbing the collar of Draco's robes, he had the guards open the door and threw him back into the room. The guard holding Astoria dropped her so that she fell to the floor in surprise.

By the time she had rushed to where Draco had collapsed, trying to catch his breath, all of them were gone, the door was locked, and just the two of them sat huddled in the middle of the floor with only the ticking clock for company.

"What happened?" Astoria asked.

"Don't know," Draco said, still breathing hard and putting a hand on his shoulder to see if there was bruising.

"Are you hurt? What did they do?"

"Nothing," he said. "Just a weight charm."

"What did they say?"

But he just shook his head, looking confused and concerned, like he was trying to figure something out but the pieces weren't fitting together for him.

"They don't want us sleeping on the floor," he said finally.

For once Astoria seemed shocked into silence. When she recovered, she tried to get Draco to let her look at his shoulders and stomach, but he shoved her away.

"Really, I'm fine. Let it alone."

And he sounded so angry that she did. Instead, Draco crawled onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, eventually falling asleep.

He woke up to Astoria prodding him in the arm. She was carrying one plate and had set the other one on the empty side of the bed. When he started to stand up, she shushed him and told him to stay where he was. With a few pillows propped behind him, he was able to sit up with relatively little effort, and he was tired enough that he let Astoria fuss a little.

The plate held a dry piece of bread and a small bowl of watery soup.

That night, Draco stayed where he was, and Astoria climbed into the space next to him.

**Day 20**

They woke up to another steaming breakfast that could almost match the quality of Hogwarts' Great Hall. Neither one spoke as they ate. As soon as the food disappeared, however, Astoria took to pestering Draco with questions on what _exactly _Jasper had said, and Draco ignored her completely.

What were they planning on doing with them? He wondered. Was Astoria in danger? Would they hurt her the same way or worse? He hadn't felt that tired in a long time, not since—. He shook his head. He needed to concentrate. Maybe they should try to find a way out of here, he thought, but he laughed at the idea as soon as he had it. They couldn't even reach the window.

"Are you just going to ignore me all day?"

He turned to her. "I'm just thinking."

"About what?"

He frowned and shook his head again.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine now. Seems sleeping did it."

She still looked suspicious. He let himself stare at her for a minute, and then impulsively reached his hand out, palm up on the table. He waited patiently for a moment while Astoria tentatively brought her hand forward and placed in his. He held on to it tightly.

"We need to be careful," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"I—I don't know. Watch what we say, or—I'm not really sure. But they're angry with us, and I think we're not responding like they thought we would. We're not as grateful or as trainable as they thought we—I—would be."

"Is that what they said?"

"Not really, but I think they thought we would be easier than with…" he trailed off, thinking again.

"With what? With others? So you think there are more of us?"

"Yes."

"Okay…so what's wrong? Why do you seem so worried?"

He dropped her hand and leaned back in the chair. "I don't know. I just don't have a good feeling about this. They can just drag us out of here, and we can't do anything. And it wasn't bad this time," he said quickly, "but what's to say it won't be next time? Or what if it's you, not me?"

"And…" he started, but trailed off because for once he envied how Astoria felt brazen enough to say just about anything. She was so stupidly honest and conscientious.

"What?"

And here she was looking so genuinely concerned. He wanted to shake her. If she just _cared_ less, he thought…

"Draco, what is it?"

He drummed a finger on the table and stared across the room at the clock. It was almost lunch time. "I think…you should start forgetting about Eric."

He never took his eyes off the clock, but he caught how her shoulders immediately tensed.

"Dr-Draco, don't say that. You know we'll get out of here, and—"

"No. No, Astoria, we won't. We both know it," he was so angry at her for putting him in this situation anyway that he didn't care about how she looked frightened and hurt. "There are no leads on where we are. And even if they manage to find us eventually, they won't find us fast enough."

"Fast enough before what?"

He shrugged and went back to staring at the clock. "Before you have to forget about Eric."

"Is that what they said?"

"Basically."

She wandered around aimlessly, eyes distant and brow knit in thought, for the rest of the day, Draco carefully watching her. She had to understand, he thought. It was obvious to him and his Slytherin mind that no Eric meant something different for them.

But she was too dense and Jasper was too impatient.


	5. Chapter 5

**Please review! Really curious for your thoughts on the story so far.**

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it belongs to J. K. Rowling  
**

* * *

(previously)

He drummed a finger on the table and stared across the room at the clock. It was almost lunch time. "I think…you should start forgetting about Eric."

He never took his eyes off the clock, but he caught how her shoulders immediately tensed.

"Dr-Draco, don't say that. You know we'll get out of here, and—"

"No. No, Astoria, we won't. We both know it," he was so angry at her for putting him in this situation anyway that he didn't care about how she looked frightened and hurt. "There are no leads on where we are. And even if they manage to find us eventually, they won't find us fast enough."

"Fast enough before what?"

He shrugged and went back to staring at the clock. "Before you have to forget about Eric."

"Is that what they said?"

"Basically."

She wandered around aimlessly, eyes distant and brow knit in thought, for the rest of the day, Draco carefully watching her. She had to understand, he thought. It was obvious to him and his Slytherin mind that no Eric meant something different for them.

But she was too dense and Jasper was too impatient.

* * *

**Day 24**

A whole three days of quiet conversations—full of the same topics they had covered, but suddenly feeling different, more intimate—and restless fingers still fiddling with the damn engagement ring—and Draco was starting to despair. He was sure that she had to understand what he meant, but then again, perhaps he was overestimating how sharp a Hufflepuff could be.

But he certainly wasn't going to try again, he thought. It had been uncomfortable enough the first time. She would come around, he knew. It just might take longer. They just needed more time.

It was annoying, caring this much about another person, he decided while savoring wine after dinner—a present with a note about enjoying each other's company. It was much easier when you didn't know them and could just sleep with them after a party and not have to worry about if the wrong step might get them separated, killed, or something worse.

While he was brooding at the table trying to read a book, Astoria laid sprawled on the bed, humming a Celestina Warbeck song and complaining about not having any music. She sat up suddenly, still clutching an empty wine glass.

"What would you listen to?"

"Quidditch games."

"No, I mean, like, music."

"Oh. I didn't, really."

"You are impossible." She lay back down, giggled to herself, and kept humming.

Draco sighed and finished his glass, the words "man up" ringing in his ears. He walked over to the bed.

"Move over. You're on my side."

"You're grumpy tonight," she said, and rolled over to the left side, the hand with the wine glass flailing above her head as she did so.

Draco swallowed down a sarcastic remark. "Let me take that." He reached for the wine glass and took it out of her hand.

"Hey! What if I want more?"

He set it on the nightstand anyway. "Do you?"

"Well, no." She gave him a goofy grin. "Come on, sit down." She patted the space of bed next to her.

He sat down and didn't feel entirely sure what to do. He cleared his throat. "So what did you listen to?"

"I got into muggle music for a while. Drove my parents crazy. Ever heard of Vampire Weekend? Some friends listened to them in America."

She was talking slower and yawned now, already having closed her eyes.

"Besides that, I listened to a lot of Weird Sisters. You know, whatever was on the Wireless."

She opened her eyes enough to look up at him sleepily, saying happily and like she was already half-dreaming, "You have a nice face."

And then she fell asleep.

Draco put the covers over her and climbed into bed, too, falling asleep to the voice in his head letting out a very long line of expletives.

* * *

**Day 25**

The next day wasn't any better. Draco was just going over his strategy for the evening over another after-dinner glass of wine when they once again heard footsteps in the corridor.

By the time Astoria stood up in alarm, Draco was already next to her, grabbing her arm and trying to decide where was the safest part of the room for them to go.

It was pointless, of course. As soon as the door opened, the two of them were immobilized as four guards surrounded them. Two of them placed hands on Astoria, and then the spell lifted and they led her more gently than Draco had expected to where Jasper was standing. Once there, they released her.

She immediately leaned against the bookshelf away from him, wrinkling her nose as if something in area smelled rank.

Heart pounding, Draco felt the buzz from the wine draining away from him as he watched Jasper take a lazy step towards her.

"We've been very generous and patient with you two," Jasper began, "giving you lots of presents and even humoring your tastes. We've given you encouragement, warnings." He glared at Draco before taking another step forward. "But it seems some of you have stayed deliberately ignorant. So I suggest you start getting to _really _know each other, or—" he looked back to Astoria and slid a suggestive hand up her arm to her neck— "I'll intervene."

The threat was so casual and quick that by the time Draco had stepped forward in alarm, Jasper had already dropped his hand back to his side and stepped away from her. He smirked at both of them.

"I don't need to go into the details on how to get the job done, do I?"

Astoria bristled as she glared at him.

"Don't think he's the only option, love. You have until tomorrow to make up your mind." Jasper said to Astoria, and he bared his teeth at her in what should have been a smile.

Draco and Astoria didn't move as all the men shuffled out, snickering to each other, until the door closed hard behind them. Astoria gave shuddered and sunk further against the shelf. They stayed like that, both still so tense Draco wasn't sure it was possible to ever relax again.

Astoria was taking deep, calming breaths, and Draco could feel the fury radiating off her.

"Is that what you were trying to tell me? Merlin, I can be denser than a troll."

They stayed frozen, and Draco could tell that she wasn't thinking about him at all. Instead, she looked down and fiddled with her ring, no doubt thinking about a certain Hufflepuff romantic that Draco was sure he would despise.

He couldn't look at her, he decided, and he turned away to sit at the foot of the bed.

_Just don't think about anything,_ he told himself. _Don't focus on anything._

And he gratefully slid into the kind of non-existence that he had survived in for nearly the last decade.

It was late when he became aware that he was no longer in the blissful state of non-thinking but was staring at Astoria and thinking about Jasper's threat.

He was out of practice with Occlumency, he noted to himself glumly.

She was curled up on the floor along the opposite wall, looking away from him and clearly engrossed in her own thoughts. There was some sort of grieving expression on her face that Draco didn't understand. _Wistfulness?_ He wondered, and felt exasperated. He never had to know this much about human emotion before Astoria.

He looked away from her and stared at the bookshelf, now laden with books and games. He could hear their new clock still ticking, and he could feel some confusion of emotion threatening to bubble over in him. _Think of something else,_ he told himself, and he forced himself to focus on the titles of the books on the shelf. There was _Quidditch Through the Ages,_ and _Hogwarts, a History, _and…

This really shouldn't be that hard. They liked each other. They trusted each other (this revelation still came with an unsettled jolt in his stomach). If his dreams were anything to go by, he certainly liked her.

…_Witches Weekly, _and _Break with a Banshee_—clearly Astoria's shelf now—and…

If it wasn't for that damn Eric, all of this would be so much easier. Wouldn't it? And what was it about Astoria that got to him so much anyway? Did this happen to every man she met?

He was jolted out of his thinking by Astoria settling on the edge of the bed next to him, her feet tucked up underneath her.

"I've known it for days, really," she said, and her voice was low and defeated.

She put out her hand, palm up, and waited expectantly.

Draco cautiously placed his hand in hers.

She squeezed it with that false cheerfulness people get when things are hard and they're trying to make it through.

"The terrible thing is that it isn't as hard as it should be." And she let out a laugh that was a mix of pain and nervousness as she caught his eye.

"I know, I can't be blamed," she said quickly. "One room with another person, and something's bound to come up. The other day, you know—" But she stopped herself and shrugged. "It's just ugly this way."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "What are the chances that nothing terrible will happen if we don't listen?"

"With Jasper running things? Probably not great." Draco shuddered, remembering how the man had touched her and smirked.

She looked up at him. "Hm. Can I trust you?" she joked. "Maybe you're just saying that because you want to get laid."

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye with raised eyebrows. "I could be." His lips twitched in what could have been halfhearted smile. "You never know."

She giggled a little, but even that managed to sound sad. And then she started crying.

He could feel the tears dripping onto his shoulder, and he could feel the heaviness of grief in the air around her. For a brief second he considered shoving her off and walking away, but he forced himself to stay and let the sadness seep into him, too.

It was awful, like flexing a muscle that's already sore, and his hand instinctively wrapped tighter around Astoria's to counteract it. The part of his brain so long trained in Occlumency thudded dully, telling him that if he wanted to get himself together he needed to get away from her and anything near raw emotion. But he couldn't. Because Astoria was upset and needed him to absorb some of her grief. It was new, and as painful as it was, he knew it was necessary. Isn't that what you do when you care about someone?

The heaviness was ebbing away, and Draco discovered that once the sadness was gone, it was replaced by something warm and glowing in his chest that might have been considered peace. Or at least something closer to it than he'd felt in a very long time.

Grief exhausted, Astoria pulled away and looked at him. She reached up and brushed away his hair, looking him over and searching for and seeing something deeper than just skin.

"I'm glad I'm here with you and not somebody I hate." She rested her hand on his neck and said matter-of-factly, "I didn't know that you could be so nice."

_I'm usually not,_ he thought, but he didn't say it because she was already bringing his head down to hers so she could kiss his cheek.

When she rested her head against his shoulder again, he managed to put his arm around her without feeling too awkward.

"You can care about two people at the same time, can't you?" she asked after a while.

"Of course," he said, although he thought it sounded strange and unlike him. Gentler. Kinder.

"Because I care about you." She didn't move her head as she said it.

He didn't say anything but let his head rest on hers, too.

Both brought their heads up in surprise when the clock struck one in the morning. With her fierce eyes looking into his, Draco realized he'd been deemed worthy of intimacy—whatever this was— and her conscientious self had been going through all the ceremony of a decision.

Had they been talking about it, he would have said it didn't make a difference since they didn't have much of a choice. And she would have said that it made all the difference in the world.

She tugged at the collar of his robes, and he stood and pulled them off.

* * *

**Day 26**

Astoria woke up to a scraping noise coming from her right. She tugged the blankets closer around her and tried to figure out why she felt so uneasy. Did Jasper really come and visit them? Yes, she thought, he did. And that sinking feeling, the one she'd been fighting off for days—why was it so much worse—?

And then she remembered. Fleeting images of an awkward and polite hour of taking off clothes and making love, if it could even be called that. She stifled something between a groan and a sigh and tried to look peaceful and sound asleep. Hopefully whatever Draco was doing was taking all his attention, and she could just go back to sleep or pretend to. She didn't think she could face opening her eyes and looking at him again.

"You'd better get up," said Draco's unmistakable voice from far above her on her right. He must be standing on a chair.

Astoria grimaced and reluctantly let her eyes open up.

The room was transformed. The window seemed to have stretched from just covering half the wall to stretching all the way across it, although it was still too high to see anything but sky. Deep purple velvet curtains were draped along it and fell on either side all the way to the floor, pooling in attractive and expensive-looking folds. An equally expensive-looking couch upholstered in the same fabric had appeared under the clock, too, and so had a dresser with a mirror in the previously empty corner of the room. And was it just her, or did the room seem bigger?

Following along the wall and passing the corner to the wall with the door, the bookcase looked mostly the same—perhaps a shelf higher, with a few more books. Then nothing different around the door besides the lamp that had appeared next to it on the wall—that was strange.

On the other side of the door, what looked like a hutch had appeared, and here held the real glory of the day. A bottle of Elf Wine, two wine glasses, and a spread of fruit and sweets lay out on the counter.

Astoria got out of bed, carefully wrapping a new robe over her nightgown and picking out a new set of robes from the new mahogany dresser. Draco pointedly kept his back turned and stared straight ahead at the wall in front of him while she changed.

Once examining the new hutch, Astoria found that the bottom cabinet of the hutch felt cool like the inside of the refrigerator at Eric's parents' house, and it held a bottle of milk, a block of cheese, and a handful of carrots and other vegetables. The top cabinet contained one shelf full of bread, crackers, cereal, and other pantry goods while the top held plates, bowls, glasses, and spoons. No forks or knives, she noticed ruefully.

Coffee, tea, and a kettle that heated up when you touched the handle lay on the new counter, too. The water was still warm, so she poured herself a cup of tea, doctored it, and sat at the table.

Only then as she rifled through the spread of breakfast foods on the table (which included muffins, pancakes, and other goods) did she notice an alarming note that read, "_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, congratulations on your marriage,"_ before moving on to wish them well and to explain that the new lamp which Astoria had noticed by the door would light up to signal their need to fulfill their marital duties again, and that they would have three days to comply before the authorities would feel the need to make sure that their relationship was "healthy and dedicated."

She let out a small squawk of disbelief and looked up to see if Draco had seen it, but he kept his back rigidly facing her and stayed where he was on the chair, arms reaching up tentatively towards the window. She looked at the note again. It had been folded and sealed with wax, broken open by the time she read it. She sat down and rubbed her eyes with her free hand still clutching her mug of tea.

She heard a scraping noise again and looked up to see Draco moving the chair away from the window and into the middle of the room. He stood on the chair and raised his arms in the air, his back facing her again.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Seeing what makes the window move," he said. He sighed, lowering his arm and stepping off the chair to face her. "It's height of any kind, not just when you are near the window. So there's no outsmarting it."

As Astoria caught his eye, she could see her own fear in his face, and she could almost hear his voice in her head. "_We've waited too long," _he would say. "_We've been careless and wasted time when we should have been searching for a way out."_

She nodded and turned to the door, running her fingers along its edges, not sure what she was looking for but hoping for some wrinkle, some feel of magic that would perhaps give them what they needed to escape. After a half hour of careful looking with shoulders tense and ears straining to detect the sound of steps in the hall, she didn't feel anything. And when she remembered all the bars and gears that had unlocked the door from the other side, she gave up.

Draco had moved on from the window to the bookshelf and had picked up _Hogwarts, a History._ He flipped through the pages deliberately, searching for a certain chapter. Astoria began running her fingers around all the walls, futilely hoping for the wrinkle or feel of magic that might mean something was different. But her fingers were inexperienced, and even if she did pass over a section that was under more spells or charms, she wasn't confident that she would recognize it. She went around the whole room anyway.

When she was finished, Draco was sitting on the bed, having made it up and finished whatever chapter he was reading while she went around the room.

"Anything?" he asked.

"No, but it's hard to tell."

"We'll keep checking, just in case," he said, and turned over the Hogwarts book in his hands. "I thought that our best chance after the window is the way the food and books appear and vanish, but that would only take us to another area where there is bound to be others who wouldn't hesitate to immobilize us. And that's assuming we can figure out a way to transport ourselves that way, which I don't think we can."

He opened the book to a chapter titled _The Feasts._ "The way the food works—and I assume the bookshelf, too—is the same way the Hogwarts feast tables work. The first problem is that the elves who run it only transport what they want—you'll notice that if you put a _Daily Prophet_ on the table at Hogwarts, it wouldn't disappear with the food. If you were stupid enough to put it on a platter, then it might."

"So we'd have to be able to fit inside one of the dishes that they are retrieving?"

"That's the other problem. The system was never meant to transport anything live, and whenever it accidentally did, the person or animal never survived."

"So that's out then?"

"Unless you want to experience what has only been described as a horrible splinching."

"So what does that leave us with?"

"A hope that they missed something, and that one of these walls isn't as secure as they think."

Astoria, now back at the door, sank to the floor under the horrible new lamp. "They won't have done that."

"I know."

"So, there really wasn't any point. We were right at the beginning. There's no way out."

Draco shrugged and kept his eyes on the pages of the book, but she could see they weren't reading.

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know."

He looked like he hadn't slept at all. Not like she had either—most of the night she'd stared at the wall and tried to quiet her twisting insides that agonized over the whole awkwardness of the situation, and that couldn't help but worry about the future, and that above all told her she was a traitor.

"Do you think they are watching? Or do you think they have some sort of spell that lets them know—?" she asked.

He shrugged, although she saw him grimace. She shuddered at the idea, too.

She never went back to get her tea and she shunned the breakfast table with its horrible note. Instead, she chose a book on the healing properties of potion ingredients (they had confiscated her book on first aid) and curled up on the new couch. She couldn't read, however, and instead she stared at the page until her shoulders started to ache from the tension in them and the numbness wore off and the tears started. She could feel her throat constricting.

She stumbled abruptly to her feet, setting the book aside and startling Draco from where he was reading on the edge of the bed, and mumbled something about taking a shower. Once safely behind the bathroom door, she threw the knob to its hottest setting, stripped off the soft new robes and plunged into the steaming water. It was so hot that it stung, but she kept herself submerged with it and washed her hair and body three times.

When she walked back into their room, she had the distinct feeling of stepping back into the practical shoes of a wary Hogwarts fifth-year who knew how to stay quiet and watch for danger and the proper escape. She curled back up on her spot on the couch and stared at her book without reading it. Instead, she ran over every method of escape they could have overlooked. She couldn't think of one.

Neither of them went back to the table to eat, not even after the note disappeared with their lunch plates or when dinner appeared with such appealing smells that it made their mouths water. They went to bed without speaking to each other and without sparing a glance at the unlit lamp by the side of the door.

* * *

**...  
**

**Phew! Crazy happenings, huh? So please tell me: 1) What is your favorite part/line of this chapter? and 2) What is your favorite part/line of the story so far?**


	6. Chapter 6

_**Please review!**_

_(previously)_

Only as Astoria rifled through the spread of breakfast foods on the table (which included muffins, pancakes, and other goods) did she notice an alarming note that read, "_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, congratulations on your marriage,"_ before moving on to wish them well and to explain that the new lamp which Astoria had noticed by the door would light up to signal their need to fulfill their marital duties again, and that they would have three days to comply before the authorities would feel the need to make sure that their relationship was "healthy and dedicated."

…..

…She had the distinct feeling of stepping back into the practical shoes of a wary Hogwarts fifth-year who knew how to stay quiet and watch for danger and the proper escape. She curled back up on her spot on the couch and stared at her book without reading it. Instead, she ran over every method of escape they could have overlooked. She couldn't think of one.

Neither of them went back to the table to eat, not even after the note disappeared with their lunch plates or when dinner appeared with such appealing smells that it made their mouths water. They went to bed without speaking to each other and without sparing a glance at the unlit lamp by the side of the door.

* * *

**Day 27**

Breakfast the next morning was simpler and thankfully note-free. Astoria ate it on the couch, book in hand. Draco sat at the table for a long time, staring at the door before stretching out on the bed to read.

He chose an unusual spot—Astoria's side, furthest from the kitchen. Out of the corner of her eye, Astoria saw him prop a pillow under his chest and open a large book (she couldn't read the title) so that it rested on the headboard.

Things were quiet as they read, and the clock ticked on closer to ten o'clock. After it had chimed, Astoria vaguely registered a faint scraping or grinding sound. She froze, both hands clamped on the sides of her book and eyes glued to the page.

It was coming from her left, towards the bed. Slowly readjusting so that her feet were tucked underneath her and her shoulders slightly turned more to the left, Astoria could make out Draco's arm lazily reaching over the side of the bed and past the head board to a space of wall between it and the nightstand. While the rest of his body looked relaxed and his eyes were fixed steadily on the book in front of him, Astoria knew immediately that hidden in his hand and out of her side was something—a spoon maybe?—that Draco was using to scrape against the back wall.

A wild hope started in Astoria at the thought of escape, even though she knew the chances were beyond slim. It was worth a try. And so Astoria made a point to make just a hint more noise as she turned a page, resituated on the obscenely comfortable couch, or got herself a cup of tea or a piece of fruit.

It was very nice to have access to some food all the time, she thought.

At lunch, they sat at the table and held a subdued and eye-contact-free conversation about potion ingredients and dragon reservations.

Astoria fell asleep to the scraping noise in the afternoon. She woke up to the unmistakable sound of hurried steps in the hall.

By the time she could hear the bolts turning in the door, Astoria was sitting bolt upright on the couch, both feet firmly on the ground and ready to spring her forward if need be. Draco, however, had only brought his arm back onto the bed and merely turned a page of his book.

She was expecting the paralyzed feeling that overcame her just as the door opened, and she resigned herself to it. Beyond anything else, she realized, she was curious. Surely Draco didn't actually make much progress, and so there was no real threat of escape. So how they dealt with it, if that was actually why they were here, would say a lot about what the two of them could expect.

It was Jasper, of course, along with his customary flank of two guards for support. _Because two unarmed and immobilized prisoners were sure to be too much for him_. Astoria resisted smiling at the thought.

"I apologize for not stopping by sooner," Jasper said after he had surveyed the room. "Plenty of disobediences to address today, it seems."

Astoria noticed him rub a spot on his arm in irritation. She could see the outline of a bandage from underneath the sleeve of his robe, and her heart leapt a little at the thought of another prisoner managing to fight back.

Jasper walked over the where Draco was lying on the bed and tapped his wand on Draco's shoulder just as the guard lifted the immobilizing spell. Astoria watched as Draco's body tensed and then collapsed from Jasper's shock.

His two guards dragged Draco's still-limp body to the center of the room while Jasper sauntered ahead of them. One of them muttered _enervate,_ and Draco straightened his shoulders and carelessly stood up, looking at Jasper with a perfectly blank expression.

Jasper stared at him for a minute or two until Astoria began to feel anxious.

"Care to tell me what you were doing with this?" He held up a spoon with a gnarled-looking edge.

Draco shrugged and looked bored.

"As you might have noticed," Jasper continued, "We don't appreciate people taking advantage of our hospitality. You were privileged, Draco, and we hate taking those privileges away." He tossed the spoon to the floor under the legs of the table. "Now, we also don't appreciate you destroying our rooms, especially for something as futile as escape."

He was rolling up his sleeves as he talked now, and Astoria could sense his energy—even his excitement. She felt sick.

With a dramatic sweep of Jasper's wand, Draco went flying from his place in the center of the room, twisting unnaturally in the air and crashing into the back wall just below the window. Jasper waited for him to crumple in a heap on the floor before sending his wand in a beautiful arch up through the air and back down to his side. Astoria heard the rush of some spell and the grunt and crunching sound as it landed soundly across Draco's side.

For a few seconds, Jasper seemed unsure on whether he should continue. He waited again, looking just as bored as Draco had earlier, until he saw Draco's fingers move feebly from the floor to his side, no doubt trying to gauge the damage. At Draco's quiet string of swears, Jasper looked satisfied and stormed out of the room, his trail of guards hurrying after him.

As soon as the immobilizing charm lifted, Astoria walked over to where Draco still lay on the floor. He wasn't moving at all except for his right hand, which was wandering very carefully over his side and stomach. His eyes were still closed, but he was breathing hard and unevenly and still letting out every known swear Astoria had heard.

Acting much calmer than she felt, Astoria ordered him to stay still and try to relax while she diagnosed him. He tried to laugh at her but that seemed to hurt him and instead he clenched his teeth and breathed even harder.

She found it nearly impossible without a wand, but she knew that he had broken at least two ribs, his left elbow, and his left ankle. That side of him must have hit the wall, she explained.

Draco nodded almost unperceptively and made a feeble attempt to move.

"No! Stay as you are," she told him. "I need to make sure you aren't going to puncture a lung."

How she was going to figure that out without a wand, she had no idea.

She didn't have to worry, however, because she heard steps in the hall again and turned to face them, feeling furious and naked without her cedar-and-unicorn-hair wand.

The person to come through the door was not Jasper, however, but was a harried-looking wiry man who could have been her age. He immobilized her in irritation before bending over Draco and muttering a few hasty spells that caused Draco to groan and swear even louder. In less than five minutes, he was out the door again, and Astoria again felt the release of the immobilizing charm.

She turned to Draco to see him propping himself up on his right elbow.

"How do you feel?" she asked as she looked over the ribs she knew were broken. To her surprise, she found them healed, although not healed as well as if she had done it.

Draco didn't answer her but grimaced. "That hurt like hell."

Astoria nodded absentmindedly as she checked his elbow, then his ankle. It was so strange and she was so preoccupied wondering why they had healed him that she didn't hear him at first.

"Merlin, Astoria! Will you help me up or not?"

"Oh, right. I guess it won't hurt you if you're already—if they've—." She stopped stuttering and helped him struggle to his feet and to the bed.

"No getting up for at least twelve hours," Astoria told him. "The healing can be weakened by too much movement. We want it to set."

He didn't argue, which told Astoria how much pain he must have been in. She simply nodded to him and brought him a brimming glass of the Elf wine.

"You realize how much I'd have to drink of that for it to help?" He said, painfully recovering his careless and snide voice.

She pursed her lips at him. How could he manage to be so irritating, even right now? "You haven't had anything to drink in a month. Your tolerance will have dropped."

She helped him sit up a little more and propped some pillows behind him so that he could sip the wine. He silently let her help, and then downed the glass.

"How is it?" she asked.

"Good. Strong. Different than what we had before. Definitely French, probably from Provence." He handed her the glass expectantly. She pursed her lips again, took it, and refilled it. He handed it to her dismissively once he had finished that glass.

Astoria reluctantly took the glass and turned to put it on the table. "Do you want to lie down again?" she asked once the glass was on the table. But he wasn't listening and was instead staring intently at the ceiling. She sighed and moved the pillows and helped him ease back onto his back.

He ignored her and kept staring at the ceiling. She noticed that his pupils had dilated, however, and so went back to the couch.

Before she settled with her book, she was already turning over in her mind how careless Jasper was and yet how determined they all seemed to be to keep their prisoners in good shape.

Jasper was confident in their healer's ability to undue whatever damage he caused, that was clear. He hadn't planned on and wouldn't plan on killing them yet, she thought with only slight relief. There was always the chance he'd get carried away or they would do something too unforgiveable. And yet this wasn't the first punishment of the day, she reminded herself, and she put that piece of information aside to see where it fit into the puzzle later.

Most important, she thought, she wanted to know how they could have known what Draco was doing. They couldn't have seen through the door—the angle was all wrong. And the sound was so quiet, she couldn't imagine that that was it. A sensing charm, perhaps? But even with that, how would they have known it was the spoon—known exactly where to go to find it?

Dinner never arrived that night, but she wasn't hungry anyway. She decided rather vindictively that Draco could live without being waited on for an evening, too, and simply curled up with a blanket on the couch.

* * *

**Day 28**

There was another note at breakfast, this time only addressed to Mrs. Astoria Malfoy. She had a feeling she knew what it was going to say, and so avoided it most of the morning.

When it still hadn't disappeared with the lunch dishes, Draco, annoyed, said, "Just read it, Astoria."

She glared at him. "Still not feeling better?" He had insisted that he felt fine all day, but he had been unpleasant and irritable. She thought he couldn't possibly get more unbearable.

He shrugged noncommittally.

She gritted her teeth and reached for the letter. It read much like she imagined it would:

_Dear Mrs. Astoria Malfoy,_

_As it has been made clear to you, a disregard for proper behavior cannot be tolerated in this community. We are grieved to see that our gifts to you and your husband—_Astoria grimaced at the word—_have been so ill-used and unappreciated. If you insist on further abusing your privileges of certain furniture, you will find such privileges taken away and the offending party punished. The next punishment will be much more severe._

_Fondly,_

_Gerard_

The signature had all the flourish she would have expected from Gerard. But as she re-read the note, she was struck by the last line. The next punishment. The next punishment after what Jasper did to Draco? That was alarming. Anything more severe might get one of them killed.

There was a postscript, too. Astoria could practically hear Gerard's paternal voice:

_Also, my dear—please do not delay in completing your duties. Such disrespect will not be well-received. Terribly sorry for this, but then we must observe the rules, mustn't we?_

Just as she finished reading this, the paper began to heat up and shake. Surprised, she opened her grip to drop it only to find that the paper stayed connected to her fingers. It got hotter and hotter, the paper writhing, crumpling, and shrinking until instead of a roll of paper it was a thin and silver snake.

It scorched the skin it touched so that Astoria cried out and tried to shake it off. But it seemed glued to her skin as it wound its way over Astoria's hand and settled in a tight, burning coil around her wrist. As soon as it coiled twice around her wrist, it cooled, leaving behind the angry red and blistering lines of its journey.

Tears streaming down her face, it took her a moment to realize that Draco was standing over her and holding her hand and arm, looking over the angry marks and examining the silver coil.

It was really an exquisite bracelet. The silver was so fine and thin that some knitting yarn would be thicker than it was. Inscribed on it was some Latin phrase in an equally-beautiful script, but Astoria had no interest in reading it. Draco read it, though, carefully bringing her arm closer to his face so that he could read the miniscule words.

Astoria tried to shake out of his grip in irritation, but this only aggravated the searing pain that followed the red line from her finger, over the back of her hand, and on her wrist. The bracelet was still snug against her skin, covering the most recent burn marks so that she thought she was going to scream because it hurt so much.

"Hold still," Draco said. And she did. It hurt too much to move. He carefully placed his fingers on one coil of the bracelet and tugged it down towards her hand. She stifled a pathetic-sounding whimper, but thankfully the bracelet obeyed and dropped an inch lower on her arm so that it dangled prettily at the thinnest part of her wrist.

The red marks where it has rested were blistering, and both hands shook at the pain.

Draco dropped his hands as though afraid he was hurting her. "Would anything help—?" he asked.

Part of Astoria's brain registered that his voice sounded a fraction higher. "Um," her mind was scrambling to think through anything besides how much the stupid lines hurt. "Ice. Ice. Please. In c-cold water. That pitcher. Use that."

He turned towards the hutch and picked up the pitcher of water that Astoria had nodded towards. It was only half full now, having appeared full with breakfast and periodically refilled itself. Draco knelt in front of the lower cabinets and put handfuls of ice into the pitcher before returning to her and guiding her to the couch. She held the pitcher and gingerly placed her hand and wrist in the ice water, sighing in relief.

They sat in silence for a while, both sitting on the couch. Astoria looked at Draco, and laughed. Perhaps she was learning more on how to read him, or perhaps he was getting worse at hiding what he was thinking, but she could see that he was almost beside himself with anxiety and that the guilt was eating him for snapping at her to read the note.

Her laugh startled him, but she decided she didn't need to tell him anything. And he looked relieved, anyway.

"What does it say?" she asked. "The bracelet."

"_A caelo usque ad centrum_. It means, 'from the sky to the center.' Or something like that."

"Any idea what it means?"

He shrugged. "Not really." He looked back at her hand, still submerged in the ice water. "How's your hand?"

"Oh, it'll be fine, I think. It hardly hurts in the water."

He nodded, and looked relieved again.

"Any chance I can get the thing off?"

They both peered carefully at the bracelet.

"I wouldn't chance it. It'd most likely do something worse if we tried."

Astoria nodded. "What do you think it will do now?"

"I don't know. Will it bother you? I mean, will it hurt?"

Astoria pulled her hand out of the water and examined the burn marks. As she did so, the bracelet slid up her arm and over the blistering lines. She gasped and plunged her hand back in the water. "It'll stop hurting by tomorrow morning," she said through gritted teeth. She flexed her fingers—the ones that weren't burned. They were going numb from the cold water.

"What did it say?"

"The note? Oh, what I expected. No more sleeping on the couch or they'll take it away and probably kill one of us."

He nodded absentmindedly. Apparently he'd been expecting that, too.

Astoria looked around the room, restless and anxious as well. Her mind immediately went to looking for another mode of escape, but she knew she'd already exhausted all her ideas. She opened her mouth to ask Draco what he'd discovered, but thought better of it. There was always a chance they were being watched, and with her hand still throbbing and Draco still moving his left arm rather stiffly, she decided they better not push anything just yet.

Instead, she tried to reach for her book, which was lying on the floor. She found, however, that the heavy pitcher wouldn't stay stable without her left hand holding the handle, and that she didn't dare take her hand out of the water again. She noticed with a sigh that over half of the ice had already melted.

While she was resituating the cold pitcher in her lap, Draco silently knelt forward, picked up the book, and placed it next to her before walking to the shelf to retrieve a book of his own. Surprisingly, he returned to the couch and settled on its opposite side and began to read.

Astoria smiled at how this made her feel strangely more comfortable, as though a bit of normalcy had returned to their small room. Her joy was short lived, however, when she figured out that she couldn't hold open her book and keep the annoying pitcher of water steady. After five minutes of unsuccessful resituating, she put the book down in frustration and stared at the bookshelf.

"What the hell are you reading, anyway?" Draco plucked the book from her lap and read the title. "_On the Healing Properties of Everyday Plants and Potion Ingredients,"_ he read aloud.

"Yeah, the idea is that most people buy these ingredients for a sleeping draught or a pain-relieving potion, but that mixed right or at the right temperature, they can help break a fever or speed up the healing process in a pinch."

"I see." Astoria noticed that he didn't glance at the front of the book but instead flipped immediately through the index. Just as Astoria had done—there was an index on common plants by region.

"What are you reading?"

Draco held up a book entitled, _A Long and Sordid History of Wizards and Dragons_.

"Hm. A bit more interesting than mine, I guess."

"A bit." And he opened the book and began to read, unannounced, the fifth chapter, which was on King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table and how their tales informed the modern Wizarding community on the habits and whereabouts of dragons in the fifth century.

Gradually, Astoria felt her shoulders relax, and she leaned back on the couch. She kept her shoulders angled away from the door and the horrible lamp while she listened to Draco's surprisingly clear voice. She stopped him occasionally to ask a question or interject some information or another point of view. At one point they stopped reading altogether to talk about the first task of the Goblet of Fire tournament, in which the contestants had to outwit a dragon. Both were in the stands and shared what they remembered about the four different dragons they had seen.

Draco had just resumed reading when he broke off suddenly, eyes on the door. In less than a second he had recovered himself and continued reading, but Astoria had already turned to look and saw that the new lamp was illuminated for the first time.

Draco finished reading the paragraph and then stopped, staring at the page. Neither one moved or spoke, but instead they felt the ticking of the clock behind them fill and echo in the room.

Finally, Draco asked in a flat and emotion-free voice, "Do you want to keep reading?"

"Sure, whatever you want," Astoria responded immediately.

And so Draco kept reading, but the clarity had gone out of his voice, and Astoria was sure that even he wasn't listening to what he was reading anymore.

They stayed that way for a half hour until dinner appeared, at which point Astoria noticed another stumble in Draco's voice as the dishes appearing startled him, and then he finished the sentence and closed the book.

They ate dinner in silence and without eye contact. Astoria spent much of her time pushing the food around her plate with a fork held awkwardly in her left hand, her right hand still dangling in the pitcher of cold water.

Once she felt she had pretended to eat enough, she added more ice to the pitcher and returned to the couch. Draco didn't join her but instead picked out another book—this time on the formation of the Wizarding banking system—and sat to read at the table. Astoria closed her eyes and tried to rest or fall asleep—do anything but acknowledge the despair that had settled in her chest.

She wasn't sure how long she had been there successfully dozing in and out of dreams when she felt a shadow fall over her. She started awake to see Draco tense up and then continue to set a glass of the elf wine on the table next to the couch.

Neither one of them said anything as he put the glass down and put the now half-empty bottle of wine next to it. He returned to the table and picked up his book.

She sniffed the wine. It smelled nice—very sweet. A sip told her that, though she wasn't a wine connoisseur, this was a very decent vintage. She took a bigger sip. On her third sip, she moved to the floor where she could put the pitcher of water down, drink her wine, and still be able to hold a book open. Why hadn't she thought of doing that before?

After less than half an hour, her book on Gilderoy Lockhart was making her giggle and her second glass of wine was gone. She stopped mid-pour of the third glass and asked if Draco wanted any. In response, he held up a glass between his fingers, still half-full of the bubbling wine.

Her mind had begun to spin as she drained the glass, but she had still not forgotten about the lamp by the door and how its red glow seemed to find its way into every corner of the room. Instead, she stopped reading about Lockhart and his adventures and turned to stare at Draco.

All things considered, he wasn't bad-looking. He had beautiful eyes, always his best feature. And then there was that sort of graceful, princely way he walked, and those long and slender fingers. And the way he smirked wasn't always irritating, and—and yes, that smirk, and—

And then she realized she was speaking out loud, grew red in the face, and burst out laughing.

"Why did you decide I needed something to drink? Plan on taking advantage of me?" she asked, struggling to her feet and knocking over the pitcher of water in the meantime. She stared at it, troubled for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders and held her injured hand up for Draco to see. "Hand doesn't hurt any way."

Draco wasn't smirking anymore and looked more or less alarmed as she stumbled over to him, roughly shoved his book out of his hand and sat ungracefully in his lap. She batted her eyes mischievously.

"Smirk for me again," she ordered, placing an unsteady arm around his neck.

He did, looking amused and still a little nervous.

She more or less launched herself at his mouth before she could lose her nerve, and after a moment of surprise, Draco seemed to figure out what was going on and returned the kiss.

* * *

**So I'm curious: 1) How many other prisoners do you think there are? 2) What do you think of Astoria's new silver bracelet?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi friends! Quick note - as J.K. Rowling published a new bit about Harry, Ron, Hermione et al on Pottermore, I've updated a few things. Most notable is that Hermione didn't change her last name to Weasley when she married, so I've updated the chapters with her to reflect that.  
**

**Otherwise, enjoy and please review!  
**

* * *

_Interview with Victim No. 4, continued_

_Hermione Granger, Office of Magical Law, Interviewer_

**Victim No. 4**: I'm assuming you've seen the template of the note they placed with each of us?

**Ms. Granger:** Which note? The—oh. The marriage one.

**Victim No. 4**: Yes. I don't believe I've ever felt angrier. It was so condescending.

**Ms. Granger:** What did you do?

**Victim No. 4**: That was, I think, one of the days we spent hardest trying to escape. We spent days at it and turned up with nothing. And they made it clear they wouldn't tolerate any more energy in that direction.

**Ms. Granger:** The spoon?

**Victim No. 4**: Yes. Something as harmless as a spoon against a charmed concrete wall. It was a great test of how close they watched us and how reactive they were.

**Ms. Granger:** And so you didn't try other means of escape for some time?

**Victim No. 4**: No. other things came up that took our energies, and we were too afraid, I think. I had that bracelet, and Draco easily could have died had Jasper's spell gone wrong in the slightest way.

* * *

**Day 29**

Astoria woke up the next morning to a pounding headache and the discovery that she was under the covers of the bed wearing only her camisole and no panties. A surreptitious glance around the room told her that Draco was in the shower, and so she quickly sat up to find her clothes.

She didn't have to look very far. Her robes had been laid neatly at the end of the bed within reach, and she threw them on quickly before starting the hunt for her panties. She found them on the floor at the foot of the bed on Draco's side. She groaned to herself and thought for a moment that she was going to be sick before she recovered herself. She slipped them on before setting out a stack of clean clothes to change into once she had showered. Only once she started digging through the drawers of the dresser did she see the stripes of red on her hand.

It didn't hurt until she brushed against it, she noticed. Thankfully, the snake bangle that caused the burns to begin with didn't irritate it when it slid up and down her wrist as she moved.

Once her clothes were stacked neatly in a pile and the bed was made up, she noticed the glass of water on her nightstand. Whether it was a house elf or Draco, she gratefully took it and sipped the water down until her headache subsided.

Only then did the bathroom door open to reveal a perfectly dressed and shaven Draco. Astoria fought down an urge to grimace when she remembered she hadn't thought to look in the mirror over the dresser to see what her hair looked like.

He made no comment to her besides a raised eyebrow before turning to sit at the table. She didn't spare him a second glance but snatched up her clothes, raced to the bathroom, and shut the door firmly behind her.

Once in the cold water of the shower (her burned hand wouldn't allow for anything warmer), she let herself remember what had happened, and by the time she stepped out of the bathroom, she had decided four things, only two of which she planned on sharing with Draco.

Feeling clean, well-groomed, and much less fuzzy-headed, Astoria sat across the table from Draco as she impatiently waited for her tea to cool. He was munching on a piece of toast and already absorbed in a book.

"Draco," she said, and waited for him to stop reading and look at her. She noticed he did so reluctantly and felt strangely satisfied to know that he wasn't immune to awkwardness either.

Looking him calmly in the eye, she said, "I don't want to wait for the lamp again. It makes me feel like a dog being told to do a trick."

He returned her look just as calmly, but Astoria was learning how to read hints of his tension in how his jaw tightened—like it did now.

"So what do you want to do?"

"I think every four days should—be suitable." She narrowly avoided saying that it "would suit them." She felt that even that phrase would give Jasper and Gerard too much control. "Why don't we keep a schedule? The evening of every fourth day. I'll mark it every day after breakfast."

Draco nodded and went back to his book.

Astoria breathed a little easier, thinking with relief that the first out of four things were done, at any rate.

Astoria went to the shelf, tore out a page of her sketch book, and put a single small line at the top of the page. Then she folded the paper and laid it on an empty space of shelf. Another item on her list done.

Going back to the table, she doctored her tea, sipped it, and examined the hutch.

They had gotten a small sink with a tap in the counter of the hutch. And, she noticed with some mixture of relief and irritation, three bottles of Elf wine had replaced the empty one that had disappeared from the floor by the couch.

That was the third thing.

"You never drank much, did you?" Draco asked without looking up from his book. Astoria was annoyed to see his lips twitch to hide a smirk.

"Well, it got the job done, anyway," she said, sounding more defiant and assured than she felt. She hoped he wouldn't look up at her just now to see the color flooding her face.

He didn't. Instead, he kept his head bent over his book and only made some noncommittal noise of agreement. "Perhaps not three glasses next time."

Astoria gave a deep and controlled sigh to keep her irritation at Draco under control. So much for Draco only finding out about half of her new resolutions.

* * *

**Days 30-53**

By the end of the day, they had started talking again, and by the second day Astoria saw that Draco's jaw didn't flex whenever he caught her eye.

After dinner on the fourth day, Astoria underlined the latest slash on the folded-up paper on the bookshelf. She slipped off her engagement ring and poured herself a single glass of wine, which she drank very quickly, before placing herself this time a little more gracefully on Draco's lap.

She learned very soon that misbehavior—such as destroying books on blood purity, refusing dinner, or trying to see if their glasses and dishes would break—was almost immediately accompanied by the warming of the bracelet on her arm, which would burn her unless she obeyed. And Draco learned, too, how to interpret a sudden tension in her shoulders as a warning sign, and together the two of them crept very carefully around the rules given to them.

They gratefully did not see Gerard or Jasper again for nearly a month, and instead relied on Astoria's bracelet to gauge what they could and could not do.

The next visit was just as scarring as the last, although in a different way.

* * *

**Day 54**

They had just set up a game of exploding snap on the floor when they heard the locks on the door reel back. They jumped to their feet from the floor, both stumbling away from the door as it swung inward to reveal Jasper, an older woman in white and red Healer robes, and several other nameless but recognizable guards. Draco had subconsciously placed himself in front of Astoria as if that could protect her from any horrible repeat of a punishment. They looked at each other nervously, more alarmed than anything because they didn't know why they were in trouble.

The Healer came in first, and Draco was too startled by her unexpected presence to make a snap decision of letting her approach Astoria or not.

"Wait," he said, deciding too late that he didn't trust her, Healer robes or not. He moved to pull Astoria away from the Healer's now too-near outstretched hands, but a guard behind him tapped his shoulder with his wand. Pain shot from the place where the wand had touched him, moving through his whole body and forcing him to his knees. Disoriented and half paralyzed even though the pain was already fading, Draco felt the guards roughly lift him back to his feet and push him against a wall. Eyes now open, he saw that Astoria was sitting tensely on the bed while the Healer ran her wand over her. The healer took a sample of blood, examined a drop of it mixed with a solution pulled from her pocket, and then straightened up.

"Congratulations," She said without a hint of warmth. "You are two weeks along. I don't think I need to tell you that you need to be careful and take care of yourself. We'll change your food, too, so be aware that your meals will now be served on a gold-colored plate. If you start bleeding or start having cramps, anything like that, ring the bell."

As she said this, a bell appeared on a stand just below the hated lamp by the door.

At her turning away back towards the door, the rest of the crew followed her so that only Astoria and Draco were in the room again. Both were sheet white.

"Two weeks—?" Draco choked off.

Astoria burst into tears, burying her face in her hands. Draco slowly sank to the floor and put his head in his hands, too.

Eventually, Astoria got up from the edge of the bed and crawled under the covers, seeming to fall asleep—still crying, as far as Draco could tell.

He stayed where he was.

Dinner came several hours later, magically appearing at their dingy table. As promised, the food came on one glass plate and one gold plate. Draco wasn't hungry and so didn't even sit down at the table. He glanced over at Astoria—still sleeping. He sighed, and then picked up her plate. Quietly moving a water glass out of the way, he set the plate on her nightstand. As he did so, Astoria opened her eyes and rolled over to face him, startling him.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "Didn't want to wake you, but there's food—" His voice died out as he looked at her red-rimmed eyes. He immediately started backing away from the bed as if his mere presence could upset her further.

"Don't be silly," Astoria said. "Come and sit here." She patted the side of the bed next to her.

Draco cautiously came forward and perched on the side of the bed as instructed. He noticed her half smile and wondered if she was laughing at his awkwardness. His pride bristled for a second at this, but the newer, gentler side of him reminded him that he had bigger problems at the moment.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She sat up, looking very much like she was going to cry again. "I don't know." She sighed.

She didn't look alright, Draco thought.

"We can't—" She cleared her throat and tried again, this time reaching out and placing her hand over his and looking determinedly in his eyes. "We can't let this wreck us again. We're no good on our own, you know."

He did know.

"So, um. So no more being awkward, or avoiding each other. If we're going to keep our sanity, we're going to have to stick together."

Draco nodded, noting dully that his jaw hurt from how hard he was clenching his teeth.

They sat there looking at each other for a long time before her face scrunched up in the way it does right before you start crying. She pitched forward into him, putting her arms around him and burying her head in his chest.

It took a minute for Draco to remember that most people don't keep their arms by their side when they are hugged, and so he carefully put his arms around her and rubbed her back in the familiar way he thought his mother had done for him when he was small.

They both went to sleep having barely eaten, each one's hand reaching out across the bed to find the other.

* * *

**Day 55 – 90 Day 60**

Astoria did not appear to be a woman prone to morning sickness or the other unpleasant side effects of pregnancy so that for several days Draco was tempted to think that perhaps the Healer's visit was just a dream. The gold plate at dinner, the bell by the door, and the overwhelming stacks of books on pregnancy and parenting on the bookshelf regularly appeared to shatter this hope, however.

He refused to read the books. Astoria devoured all of them, and more than once he caught her with the book forgotten in her lap and her eyes clouded over in a sort of trance that, when she came out of it, left her with a dreamy and wistful expression.

As difficult as it was, he was true to his word and did his best to not leave her on her own. Instead he steeled himself to set her plate of food on the nightstand when she spent the day in bed (crying half the time, from what he could tell), or to read to her out of a book while she sat on the couch (still crying, from what he could tell), or, best of all, letting—even suggesting—that she use up all the hot water in a ridiculously long bath (and this time he couldn't tell if she was crying and was frankly very relieved).

It took a week before either of them got up the nerve to actually talk about the pregnancy.

It wasn't Draco.

"So," Astoria began, and that was all Draco needed to hear to know that something uncomfortable was going to come out in conversation. It was how she said the word, the anxiety somehow making it into her voice completely against her will.

"The first trimester is thirteen weeks long, so we're still at the beginning stages. Some women can't even tell they're pregnant at this point, so they must have used a really good test."

Draco remained frozen, sitting on the couch, hand poised to turn a page in his book.

Astoria continued as though he had responded positively anyway.

"It's the fifth week that the baby's organs and everything start to form, so that's when anything exciting starts to happen." She was staring at the page trying to look calm and disinterested, but she wasn't very good and it.

And once again Draco found himself at a loss of what to do. He was supposed to do something, he knew that. But it seemed like his brain was sending panic messages to every other part of his body, making it very difficult to think.

"So, are we supposed to be excited about it at this point?" he kept his voice neutral and disinterested much better than Astoria had.

"I don't know." She got that faraway look in her eyes again. 'It is exciting, sort of, isn't it? It should be anyway." She looked back to the book without reading it.

Since that didn't really answer his question, he had no idea what else to say. Thankfully, while his mind scrambled, Astoria continued.

"Stress is really bad for it. It can even cause a miscarriage." There wasn't any fear in her voice. She was simply laying out facts.

"Do you want to keep it?" he asked. Only after he asked did he realize that that may not even be an option on the table. Perhaps they planned on taking it away. Part of him convulsed at the thought.

"I—" she blushed. "It shouldn't even be a question."

"It should. These are extenuating circumstances," he replied evenly.

She didn't answer for a long time, and the room felt strangely peaceful while he waited for an answer. Talking to Astoria, even about this, was always like that.

"Yes. I do. I want to keep it. I—I don't care, about the circumstances, I mean. He's mine—ours. And we'll keep him. Or I'll keep him—?" she looked at him, flustered and confused and not meaning to have ended in a question.

And for once Draco thought he knew what to do. He walked over to the couch, settled next to her, and uncharacteristically put out his hand for her to hold.

She took it after a moment's hesitation.

And he said what he had already decided while he had been waiting for her answer: "If that's what you want, that's what we'll do. I'll—" he swallowed with some difficulty. "I'll do whatever it takes."

She put her head on his shoulder and cried.

* * *

**Day 70**

Things changed after that, and it is hard to say what exactly did it. First of all, Draco seemed to have latched on to the idea that stress can cause problems and had begun first feeble and then more consistent attempts to help her stay relaxed. Instead of avoiding her when she cried, he would ask her if she wanted any tea, or if it would help to take a shower, or if she wanted to play one of the many games they had created. And in his own way, he was very persistent that she eat well, refusing to leave the table until almost everything was gone on her plate, or bringing her food to her when she left it half-finished. He took such good care of those sorts of things that Astoria's bracelet didn't have to heat up to tell her she was doing something wrong.

Astoria wasn't even sure why he was so insistent about any of this. He never—ever—smiled when she talked about the baby (which she had begun to do more often), and instead any discomfort she felt made his face cloud over with worry and some other darker emotion.

And he clearly had no idea what to do, but if latching on to relaxation and good nutrition made him feel useful, than Astoria didn't mind.

The crying didn't really stop, however, and she regularly woke up with puffy and dried-out eyes. It wasn't that falling asleep with difficult. In fact, she wondered more than once whether something was put in their dinner. Instead, she would wake up suddenly from a dream or a nightmare, or occasionally she'd drift out of sleep into an awareness of the dark room, and then she'd cry.

Sometimes she wasn't even sure why, whether she missed home or her family or Eric, or whether she was afraid of what would happen to her, what a baby in this place would be like, and how on earth she was going to keep herself together. But eventually she'd drift back to sleep, occasionally even being woken up in the late morning to Draco poking her, a cup of sugary and milky tea in his hands for her.

At her suggestion (in hopes that perhaps he would find some new inspiration on how to help her), Draco also tried to read one of the books on pregnancy, but he put it down suddenly after less than a half hour of reading.

Astoria looked up, startled, from the sketches she was working on at the table.

"I'm—I'm sorry," he said, tossing the book to the floor. "I tried. I really did, but I can't—. It's too—" he sighed and shivered. "Too much information." And he stood up looking distraught and overwhelmed and headed straight for the bookshelf for the much more familiar and comforting books on Quidditch and Wizarding history.

Astoria couldn't help but giggle at him. Draco stayed rigidly by the bookshelf, his jaw set in irritation until she'd pulled herself together.

"I'm—I'm sorry," she said, still smiling. When he narrowed his eyes at her, she coughed feebly to cover up more laughter. "I'll give you the edited version of what's important. Really, thank you. For trying. You've been—you've been really great."

He sighed at this, picked up a new book on famous Beaters, and sat back down on the couch. "You've got terribly low standards," he muttered, but he apparently didn't think she'd heard him.

"_No,_" she thought. "_You just don't realize when you are helping."_ And it was true.

Because when she woke up in the middle of the night, her back turned away from him so she could sob into her pillow, he would rest his arm gently against her back so that if she rolled towards him, which she occasionally did, his arm would stay tucked underneath her so that she lay comfortably in the crook of his arm. And he'd let his head lay snugly on hers, bringing his other arm around her so she could entwine her fingers with his.

Perhaps it was that Eric was much too heavy of a sleeper to ever be any comfort during a bad night that made this sleepy gesture so endearing, so empowering. Draco's breathing never unevened either, but part of him must have heard her and above all allowed him to reach out to her. And perhaps it was some mixture of knowing that, consciously and subconsciously, Draco was trying as she was certain he had never tried before.

Half asleep and feeling not so alone, she'd let her tears dry and her mind wander to how Draco was much, much more helpful when he was unaware of it. He was calm, most of the time. And Astoria didn't care whether it was him pretending or if simply having a plan made everything clearer for him. But when she felt overwhelmed and unsure about what she was doing and how in the world they were going to get through any of this, she could see him blindly, loyally, and calmly plodding through to figure it out, too.

* * *

**Day 84**

Two weeks later, Draco woke up to Astoria shaking his shoulder. She wasn't looking at him when he finally opened his eyes. Instead, her eyes seemed glued to the wall just past the bed, next to the bathroom wall.

"What is it?" he asked as he squinted past where she was kneeling next to him to the clock on the wall behind her. It wasn't even eight yet.

"Look," was all she said, and she nodded toward the wall behind him. He rolled over, his eyes still bleary with sleep. It took him a minute to believe what he was seeing.

A door—a full-sized door—had appeared between the bed and the bathroom wall.

"Have you opened it?"

"No. I wanted you to be awake."

He rolled out of bed, stumbling to his feet and fumbling with the robes he had left on the floor. Astoria seemed to come awake, too, and changed on the other side of the bed. It hardly took them a minute each.

And then they were both standing in front of the door, both of them hoping that it would let them outside and both trying to quash the irrational hope that rose up in them.

With a deep breath, Astoria thrust her hand into Draco's, reached for the door, and turned the handle.

It turned soundlessly, and the door creaked only a little as it opened so that the two of them were drenched in sunlight.

All Draco could see at first was the lush green lawn. It started at the door and stretched out to take up foot upon foot of space. Draco welcomed the scent of new earth and young plants and flowers, and he realized suddenly that it was spring.

They had been stuck in that room for so long that they had missed the rest of winter and arrived at spring. He felt the rush of freedom come over him as he followed Astoria's steps outside onto the grass. It felt soft and springy under his shoes.

Astoria couldn't help it either, and she laughed so loudly that it seemed to echo around the whole square.

Because it was a square, he realized. They weren't looking on a field. The wall of their room door spread out for a hundred feet on each side before meeting up with a two more stucco walls. The square was completed by a far wall lined with trees. From the shade of that wall, across the grass from them, they could see that it was the newest addition while the wall to their right wall was the oldest.

The sun slanted over the wall in front of them, blinding them and illuminating their door and the wall behind them. That would be the east wall, then, Draco thought, and the wall their door was on was the west wall.

Astoria set off towards the line of trees, still holding Draco's hand. They took the long way, skirting the center of the grass and instead running their eyes over every foot of wall they passed. When they came to the trees, Astoria walked past them, into the shade they provided. For the first time she reached out her hand to touch the wall, both her and Draco holding their breath—.

She jerked her hand away from the wall when she was only six inches away from it, however. From the way she moved, Draco knew that the bracelet had begun to burn her. She sighed as though she wasn't very surprised, and turned and marched the two of them back into the sun.

Then they walked back along all four walls this time trying to open every door they saw—there were only two others like theirs—one on the north wall, and another on the south wall. The south wall also had a large set of double doors in the center of it. None of them opened, and neither Astoria or Draco were surprised. Astoria brought them back onto the grass, this time walking boldly over the center lawn to rest just west of the row of trees along the back wall.

That was apparently all it took for Astoria to adjust to the fact that this wasn't an escape but simply another privilege graciously bestowed on them by Gerard. She tilted her face up towards the sun, letting it warm her skin, and let out a deep sigh.

While she sighed, Draco glanced around the yard without seeing a soul. He let himself relax a fraction. He could feel the sun on his pale face while a breeze with just a hint of winter in it pulled loosely at his robes. He sighed, too. He hadn't realized that it was possible to miss the wind.

He came back to his senses a little when Astoria took her hand out of his. He watched her as she undid her shoes so that she stood barefoot on the grass, wiggling her toes in the soft and young blades. She looked up at him with a beaming smile, then grabbed his hand and practically fell backwards to sprawl out on the grass while Draco almost stumbled on top of her.

Thankfully for her, Draco landed more or less gracefully on his knees next to her, one hand in the grass and another still clutching her hand. She didn't spare him another glance as she spread out her arms to feel the grass underneath her and closed her eyes to listen to the swallows in the trees.

Draco allowed himself to sit on the grass, every once in a while glancing at the few doors in the walls for another person. He didn't see anyone.

"I don't even care where we are," Astoria said, eyes still closed. "This is wonderful."

They stayed there, Draco eventually allowing himself to sprawl out on the grass, too, dozing off with the scents and sounds of spring lulling them to sleep.

Draco woke to the sound of an opening door. Propping himself up on his elbows, he saw the blond hair and bright robes of a witch he didn't recognize standing outside the small door along the south wall of the square. A wizard in black robes like Draco's stood behind her.

* * *

**Finally! I've been dying to share this part of the story with you. Good things are coming!**

**Thank you so much for answering my questions! Really great guesses on what the bracelet does. If you've got more questions about the bracelet or other things, I'd love to read your review or get a PM from you!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A thousand apologies for not posting yesterday! The weekend was crazy. Thanks to SoTimeless for her review, which reminded me that I needed to update :)**

**Please review!**

* * *

**Day 84**

He was on his feet in a moment, staring hard at the two people standing just outside one of the doors along the wall to his right.

The two seemed to hesitate for a moment before coming forward, the woman first and the man second, catching up to her halfway to where Draco stood and putting his hand in hers.

Astoria had woken to the sound of Draco getting to his feet and sat up, too, watching the pair approach over bent knees and bare feet. By then the two stopped, only a few feet away.

The woman was the first to say something, first gesturing as though she was going to put her hand out and then changing her mind. Instead, she looked around and caught sight of Draco and Astoria's open door.

"Is that your room?" she asked, and she pushed her thick, blond hair behind her ear. It lay stick-straight past her shoulders.

Draco didn't say anything.

This time she did put out her hand. "I'm Anna," she said.

Draco warily took her hand and shook it.

"And this is Martin," she gestured to the man next to her, who muttered some pleasantry Draco didn't quite hear as they also shook hands. Martin stood a good four inches taller than Draco and had dark skin and dark cropped hair.

By now Astoria was on her feet, too. "Astoria," she said, hand outstretched.

Martin took it first, then Anna.

"How—how long have you been here?" Astoria asked.

"Oh, you are English!" Anna said in surprise, and Draco realized that they had been speaking French. She switched to English, too, speaking with surprisingly little accent. "Five months, I think."

"Together?" Astoria asked.

"Mostly," Anna nodded her head.

"Us, too." Astoria gestured between her and Draco. "Only three months, though. This is Draco, by the way."

The other two nodded.

"There's another couple here," Anna said after a little hesitation, pushing her hair behind her ear again.

"Really?" asked Astoria. "Where?"

"Across from us. Their names are Peter and Marie. She's French, too, but he's English."

"I see."

It was strange holding a conversation with another person besides Astoria, Draco thought. It seemed like none of them were very good at it.

"Do—do you want to come in for a cup of coffee or something?" Anna asked timidly.

Astoria beamed at her. "Yes! Yes, that sounds—well, that sounds amazing."

She practically ran towards the French couple as they turned back towards their room, and Draco had to lunge a little to grab her arm.

"Astoria!" he hissed, "Is this wise? Really?"

Her excitement deflated instantly. "Well, I mean. How bad could it be?"

He looked at her, exasperated.

"I'm sorry, is there a problem?" Anna had turned back.

"No, no there isn't—" Astoria started, but Draco hissed her name again.

Martin had stopped, too, and was staring at them. "Anna," he said. "What do you think about bringing the coffee out here?" his accent was thicker.

"But why—? Oh. Oh of course. It is a lovely day, isn't it?" She disappeared into her room while Martin stayed outside.

The three of the stood in silence while they heard the clattering of dishes from Anna. Finally, she returned with a tray that held a carafe, cream, sugar, and four tea cups.

"Where would you like to sit? It's your first day out," she said.

Astoria looked back at the huge yard behind her. "Let's go back to the center. It'll give us a nice view of things."

Draco sighed in relief. It was the best strategic position if they didn't want anyone sneaking up on them. He tried not to think about how exposed they would be if someone tried to curse them. After all, he reasoned, it wasn't like their room had stopped them from getting hurt before.

Once settled on the ground, Anna poured the coffee and passed the cups out to all of them. Astoria was beaming again, and even Draco had to admit that there was something deliciously normal about having a cup of coffee with new acquaintances.

"So," Astoria asked after everyone had started sipping their coffee and the silence was getting long, "Where are you from?"

"Paris," Anna answered. "Although I was born in Normandy. And you?"

"Oh, I grew up just outside Bath."

"And you?" Anna looked at Draco.

"Wiltshire."

"Oh."

Draco guessed that she had no idea where Wiltshire was, but didn't care. He was too busy glancing around the tops of the walls around them, becoming more and more certain that somebody was walking along the top of it, just out of their sight.

"And," Anna continued hesitatingly, "Did you go to Hogwarts?"

"Yes!" Astoria said, "Yes, we did. Both of us. And you were at…"

"Beauxbatons, yes."

They smiled at each other.

"I've only known a couple of people at Beauxbatons," Astoria said. "Do you know the Delacours?"

"Yes, of course. Not well, but Fleur was very famous for the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"I'm sure. Her sister, Gabrielle, and I were friends while she was in England."

"I see, yes. Lovely girls. A little difficult to be around with the boys, if you know what I mean."

Draco remembered the way Ron Weasley had shouted at Fleur about the Yule Ball during fourth year, and how he had to be helped back to his common room, apparently in shock. He smiled.

"And you remember, too! How nice." Anna smiled at him. "Martin has never met someone who is part Veela, so he doesn't understand."

"I've seen them," he said, and Draco noticed that he, too, was scanning the walls around them. "I just didn't have to go to school with them."

"They always had the best taste in clothes, though," Anna said to Astoria.

If it was possible, Astoria smiled even wider and said something about the dress Fleur wore to the Yule Ball. Apparently doing something as normal as talking fashion with another girl was doing wonders for her morale.

Draco wondered with a pang what was happening in quidditch. That was about the only normal thing he had talked about with anybody before this place. Unless you count his mother nagging him about a girlfriend.

Martin was still looking at the walls.

"So whose up there?" Draco asked quietly.

"There had been just one," Martin said. "But I think there are a couple more now. They aren't always disillusioned. You'll see them later."

"Do they bother you?"

"No, not unless you are doing something stupid. The first time Peter and Marie came out, they had to stun him."

'Stunning isn't so bad," Draco said.

"True."

They sat in silence while Astoria and Anna talked about shoes.

"What are they like? Peter and Marie?" Draco asked.

"She's—quiet. Seemed scared, you know. He's a big man. Likes to be loud."

They heard a door opening, and turned to see a small woman with short blond hair standing in one of the doorways along the north wall.

She looked like she was trying to leave the room, but something was stopping her. She turned her head back and said something high and shrill that they couldn't hear before she shot out into the grass and started walking towards them.

"They've only been out for a few days," Martin said.

Behind who Draco guessed had to be Marie, a big man with dark hair started towards their little group, too.

"Good morning," Anna called out and made room for Marie between her and Astoria. Marie smiled shyly at her and took the seat, her blond hair fluttering as she sat down.

"Hi, I'm Astoria." Astoria put out her hand.

"Marie, _enchantée._"

Anna said something to Marie in French, and Marie smiled and ducked her head as she replied back.

"She doesn't speak much English, you see," Anna explained. "But she's learning. Peter doesn't speak much French."

Draco and Martin had stood and shaken hands with Peter, who smiled with a kind of ferocity that it almost looked comical.

"Martin," Anna said, "could you get another two teacups?"

"Of course," he said, and he walked back towards their room.

"Where are you from?" Draco asked.

"Cornwall," Peter said.

Draco noticed that he was older, his hair starting to gray.

"When did you get here?"

"Bloody hell if I know. It's not like they gave me a calendar."

Draco nodded his agreement. "When you left, what was happening in Quidditch?"

"Oh, the Chudley Cannons got blasted by Puddlemere, what would you expect? The Wasps were looking up, though. Gave the Harpies the beating they've been looking for all season." Peter smiled tauntingly, as if he knew Draco was a dedicated Harpies fan.

In reality, Draco hated the Harpies.

"Really?" he said. "I was here before that. Glad to hear it."

Peter narrowed his eyes at Draco as though he suspected that Draco might be lying to him. "How long do you reckon you've been here?"

"Three months, more or less."

Peter smirked again, his broad chest puffing up. "Wonder why they just let you out now. I don't think we've been here half as long."

Martin was back with the teacups, and Draco was relieved when they sat down and went back to quidditch, with Martin asking about their votes on the World Cup.

With coffee exhausted and stomachs growling, everyone returned to their rooms for a late breakfast, Anna promising to come and get Astoria and Marie later on for a game of exploding snap.

* * *

They played the game outside again, setting up the pieces on Anna's coffee tray while the boys walked the perimeter of the yard, talking.

"So, anything interesting happen while you've been here?" Astoria asked the others as she shuffled the cards.

The others were quiet, before Marie muttered something under her breath in French.

Anna laughed and pushed her thick hair behind her ear again. "She said, 'Nothing good.'"

Astoria nodded. "I know. Sorry, silly question."

"No, it's reasonable," Anna said. "I guess the good thing could be that we're no longer in rooms with a dirt floor and have more to eat than an apple."

Astoria smiled. "I got so excited the first time I saw a teapot appear on the table. Everything was just starting to seem normal when—" She stopped, feeling a blush rising up from her neck.

Anna looked up from her cards. "Are you—" she put a hand on her own stomach, and without the folds of her robes to hide it, Astoria could see that Anna's stomach was just a tiny bit round.

"Oh!" was all Astoria could think to say. "Well, yes, actually. And you—"

"I'm three months." Anna smiled sympathetically. "I'm guessing you're just a few weeks then?"

Astoria nodded.

Marie murmured something and put her hand on her stomach, too.

Astoria didn't have a chance to respond to this because the large doors that she guessed led to something like an administration building opened, and Gerard appeared with a few guards behind him.

The three of them stayed seated as though frozen, although Astoria noticed that they hadn't been put under _Petrificus Totalus_. The boys, too, had stopped walking. All six of them stared at Gerard.

"Good morning, friends!" Gerard said. "I'm so glad to find you all here together and that you are getting along so well. Now that there are a good number of you out and about, we thought it was time to offer some understanding. Michael, if you please."

The guard Michael, who was holding a rolled up poster, walked back towards the now-closed large doors and with a few swishes of his wand plastered the poster there.

Astoria could just read the words, "Provence Utopian Community Welcomes You" in a flourished print.

Gerard took this moment to go around the yard complimenting and talking with his charges.

"Mr. Malfoy! Such a pleasure to see you again! Glad to see you settling in. Welkins," he nodded towards Peter. "And Martin, thank you for making sure our newest guests feel at home."

He headed towards the table where Astoria sat with Anna and Marie. "Ladies! Taking good care of ourselves, I hope! So lovely to see you out and enjoying yourselves."

He walked back towards to poster.

"Let's get the business out of the way. First things first, you are all welcome to use this yard whenever and however you see fit. It is a permanent part of your home here, so make it your own. Doors will unlock at five in the morning and lock at nine at night. Please be in your rooms at all other hours."

The words, "_Number One: Yard hours from five a.m. to nine p.m."_ appeared on the poster below the bold greeting.

"Next, we have only one request when you use the yard. Please stay clear of the back wall past the trees. It is enchanted for your protection, and we don't want any of you getting hurt."

"_Keep a distance from the back wall" _appeared next on the poster list.

"Finally, we are pleased to offer you the option of a job. I know several of you are growing restless, so we will be offering half-day positions with pay and benefits starting the beginning of next week. If you are interested, you'll find a parchment with the job requirements and hours on your shelves tomorrow morning. We cannot wait to get this community fully up and functional!"

Gerard bounced on his heels as he said this, swinging his arms merrily. "Oh, yes! One more thing. To celebrate this bright new beginning, I would like to invite all of you back tomorrow evening at six o-clock for dinner in the yard. You'll find new robes just for the event back in your rooms. Until then!"

And he walked happily back through the wide doors, a corner of the new poster wavering a bit from the force of the swing.

* * *

**Day 85**

True to Gerard's word, papers about the new work arrangements appeared on their short bookshelf the next morning. Draco prodded it with a book before deciding that it wouldn't turn on him like Astoria's bracelet, and then read,

"_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_Thank you for showing interest in our company! Work hours are from 6:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m., Monday through Friday. Job requirements involve ability to receive and follow directions, and ability to lift over 50 pounds. _

_Payment will be based on behavior and experience._

_To accept this position, please sign your name below._

_Cordially,_

_Management_

Draco and Astoria stared at it and the quill placed next to it.

"So I take it I'm not allowed to apply," Astoria said.

Draco grimaced. "They didn't give us any ink."

"Don't sign it," Astoria said sharply.

"I know. I'm not going to." He noticed Astoria rubbing the back of her hand and thought of his seventh year, when more than one student left detention with the Carrows with a bloody hand.

"The others may not think about it. We should warn them." And before Draco could stop her, Astoria was out the door and walking towards Anna and Martin's room.

Anna answered the door, thick hair looking unbrushed and sticking up in places.

"Did you get the letter? About the job?"

"Yes, Martin was just—"

"Don't sign it. He shouldn't sign it."

Martin appeared behind Anna in the doorway, easily a head taller than her. "Don't worry, I wasn't going to." He looked humored.

"Oh, good." Astoria shifted her weight uncertainly. "I knew you probably wouldn't, but we've had bad experiences with…that sort of thing."

Apparently Astoria didn't feel like explaining how her school had used blood quills as torture devices on students.

"I appreciate it," Martin said, and his dark eyes crinkled as he smiled.

"Do you think we should tell Marie and Peter?" Anna asked.

"Probably. Will you come with me?"

Anna nodded and stepped out of the door, running her fingers through her hair in hopes of detangling it, and joined Astoria on the walk across the yard. Draco hurried after them, not able to help the anxious feeling that was building in his chest every time Astoria started to wander away from him. Not even twenty-four hours in this stupid yard, and she was already acting like it was just the grounds of Hogwarts.

And even Hogwarts had things like the Whomping Willow. Why wasn't she more careful?

The three of them were greeted by Peter's surly face poking out of his room, guarding it as though they were Aurors on a raid.

"Did you get the letter? About the job?" Astoria asked.

'What's it to you?"

"We don't think you should sign it. There could be some sort of spell or curse over it, especially if it ends up being signed in blood."

"And why the hell do you care? I didn't think women could even apply."

"No, it's not about that. It's about the signature. Who knows what could be over that contract? We're just trying to be smart about it."

Peter ignored her. "You signing it?" he asked Draco.

Astoria looked over at Draco as though noticing that he was with them for the first time.

"No."

"Sure you aren't." He eyed Draco suspiciously. "Get away from my door, all of you."

He was stopped from closing it by Anna. "Is Marie awake?"

"Marie's fine. Now beat it."

"I want to speak with her." Anna persisted. "Marie?" she called, looking past Peter. "_On y va_?"

Peter shouldered Anna away from the door. "If you're going to speak, for Merlin's sake use English. The girl's fine."

He shut the door almost on Anna's fingers.

Anna swore. "He keeps her inside all the time."

"We'll watch the door," Draco heard Astoria say. "If she tries to leave, we'll make sure we're here."

Anna nodded.

As soon as they were back in their own room, Draco turned to Astoria and said, "Astoria, maybe we shouldn't meddle."

"What do you mean? We should allow Peter to keep Marie in their room all day?"

"I'm just not sure we should engage in the offensive right now."

"You're being ridiculous. We're just going to keep an eye on her. It's not like we're going against Gerard's plans or anything."

"I don't think they'll see it that way," Draco said.

"No? I think they'll see it as us taking responsibility for our community. You heard Gerard yesterday. They want this to be functional."

This sounded like a very hopeful interpretation of Gerard's community goals, but Draco didn't argue.

* * *

After breakfast, Astoria and Anna laid on the grass in the center of the yard where they could see Marie's door. Draco took to sitting in his doorway with a book so that he could watch them and keep Astoria from doing something stupid.

It wasn't Marie's door that opened, however. Instead, one of the doors to the right of Marie's cracked open, revealing the pale face and freckles of a woman with frizzy black hair.

Astoria noticed it first and waved to her. The door shut quickly.

Astoria let out a disappointed, "Oh."

"Just wait," Anna said. "Marie did that, too."

Astoria lay back down, ears pricked for the sound of another door opening while Anna's breathing evened out next to her, having drifted off.

It must have been nearly a half an hour later when she heard the door open again. She forced herself not to get up but to keep lying on the ground. She counted slowly to fifty before sitting up. When she did, the black-haired woman was still in her room with the door just cracked open enough to see outside.

"Anna. Anna, she's back."

Anna opened her eyes. "We should wait."

"Can't we go say hello?"

Anna sighed and sat up, running her fingers through her thick hair again. "Alright. Only if we go slowly, though."

Astoria gave her a hand to help her up and the two walked slowly towards the new room. The door didn't close. When they were halfway there, Astoria stopped and called out, "Hello!"

"Who are you?" The woman said. She spoke with an American accent.

"I'm Astoria. This is Anna."

There was an awkward pause that Astoria was quickly becoming familiar with.

Astoria cleared her throat. "I'm with Draco. He's over there. And Martin is with Anna. He's in their room, though."

The pause continued, even though the door opened a crack more.

"I'm guessing I've been here somewhere around three months," Astoria continued.

"And I've been here for four months, I think." Anna said. "It's a lovely day. Would you like to join us?"

The woman glanced back in her room and then stepped quickly outside and closed the door behind her. She was wearing nicer dress robes than either Anna or Astoria and had coordinating earrings, bracelets, and necklaces. A patterned scarf was holding her hair back.

"I'm Missy." She held out her hand. "Astoria, you said? That's a pretty name."

Astoria took her hand and shook it. "Thanks. It's a pleasure to meet you. So do you want a tour or do you want to just lie in the sun."

"The tour."

It didn't take long. They pointed out the trees, the wall, their rooms, and the notice on the gate with the rules about the yard and the job information.

"We got the job thing today," Missy said. "Adrian wouldn't sign it. He's suspicious of everything." She made a face.

"Well, we were a little skittish about signing it, too."

Missy made a noncommittal sound.

"But it's perfectly safe out here. At least as safe as it is anywhere around here."

Missy nodded.

'Yesterday, Gerard said something about new dress robes. Did you get any?" Astoria asked.

"Yes, but they're black. I like brighter colors."

"My robes were pink. I would trade with you, if you like?" Anna said.

"And I forgot to look at mine," Astoria said. "Would you like to meet up and trade clothes? I'm so sick of what I have," she lied, guessing that trading clothes might help Missy feel more comfortable.

Missy smiled at her. "Yes, that would be great. I'll bring my things over right away."

She made her way back to her room before the others could stop her.

Anna looked at Astoria and shrugged. "Should I bring my things over, too?"

"Why not. Just come over when you've got it all together."

Draco was a little confused on why he was getting kicked out of his own room so that girls could swap robes, but he only argued with Astoria for five minutes before giving up and spending the rest of the time walking around the yard anxiously. Thankfully, Astoria saw Martin join him and the two paced together.

Missy was over first, her arms full of robes, belts, and shoes. It appeared that while Astoria and Draco had been rewarded with delicious breakfasts, Missy had been rewarded with clothing. By the time Missy had laid out the clothes she was willing to trade, Anna and Marie were walking through the door, too, each with a few robes slung over their arms.

They spent two hours trying things on and trading items. Astoria could almost pretend that she was back in her Hufflepuff dorm room the week before the Yule ball.

Missy clearly had the most clothing and accessories to offer, but she didn't seem inclined to trade most of her things. Instead, she showed them off, stared enviously at the others' clothes, and made very ungracious trading suggestions. But Anna and Missy did manage to switch dresses for the evening, and Astoria was able to facilitate a fair exchange between a few necklaces Marie had gotten and some of the shoes that Missy didn't want.

It was fun and exhausting and a little more of a battle with Missy than Astoria anticipated, so as soon as the others took their clothing back to their rooms, she fell asleep on the couch.

She woke up to Draco sitting down next to her, a gold plate of food and a fork in his hands.

"Lunch was a couple hours ago."

She sat up and took the plate from him, looking distrustfully at the kidney pie it held.

"Is it good?"

"Yeah. There's a warming charm on it for you."

She devoured the whole thing, then went to the pantry and got out a glass of milk and an orange. She brought both back to the couch.

They hadn't been alone, just the two of them, for a day or so now. It felt strange to be in a quiet room with just the two of them again.

She would have communicated this, but she was too hungry and too busy eating her orange. She felt like she hadn't eaten in days.

Draco seemed to feel the awkwardness, too. He wasn't looking her but was instead looking at the bookshelf where books on parenting, Pureblood genealogy, and pregnancy were practically falling off the shelf.

"You could almost forget about all that with other people around," Astoria said, orange and milk devoured.

"Yeah." He looked back at her. "Are you sure—?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, of course I'm sure." She put a hand on her stomach. "I'm tired all the time. I'm always hungry. I feel weird. I'm emotional."

"You haven't been lately."

"Haven't been what?"

"Emotional."

"I guess. It's easier when it's not all I have to think about."

They were silent for a minute.

"It doesn't look like you are." Draco never said the word "pregnant" or "baby" if he could help it.

"No, I won't show for another six weeks."

Draco nodded and went back to looking at the shelf.

"I—I think we'll be ok, though. This is supposed to be a functioning, lived-in community. I think things are going to get better."

Astoria knew that Draco thought that this was a rather naive interpretation of Gerard's speeches, and she could see the gloom and anxiety that had been there since the Medi-witch had seen them settling over him again.

She sighed. "I know you don't agree, but let's just enjoy it while it lasts. Don't ruin tonight, please. We're going to a party, and I think I'm going to have fun. We can forget everything and just get all dressed up and go to a party. Can you do that?"

She put her hand out expectantly.

Draco shrugged and took her hand. "Sure."

* * *

It took Astoria two hours to get ready, and she once again offered her room to Anna to do her hair, pushing Draco out into the evening light of the yard. She noticed Martin milling around the yard, too, and was disappointed that no tables or decorations had appeared for their supposed celebration.

What if Gerard didn't follow through? And she got all excited for nothing? What if Draco was right, and things weren't going to get better? She bit her lip at the thought as Anna and Marie came through the door, hair barrettes and brush in hand.

Everyone's hair was in place with just two minutes to spare, even without the help of curling charms and setting charms. Anna's hair was particularly difficult because it was so thick, but they managed to get it up into a loose braided bun. For Marie, a simple barrette swept her short wispy hair to one side so that the few curls at the tips of her hair fell prettily just behind her ear.

Astoria opted for a French twist, thinking of Hermione Granger's hair during the Tri-Wizard Tournament Yule Ball. She hadn't been there, but she had heard the stories.

When Astoria opened the door to the yard, she was surprised to see a long table with a cascading white tablecloth gracing the center of the yard. Nine gilded chairs surrounded it, and beautiful globes of light floated above it in clusters. A phonograph was set up a few feet away, playing what Astoria new to be a ballad from the early 1800's.

Walking closer to the table, she saw that each white-and-gold place setting had name card, and that she and Draco were seated closest to Gerard, who sat at the head of the table. Martin and Anna were across from them at Gerard's left.

On the table, white roses spilled from dozens of bowls and vases while steaming platters of lamb, asparagus, steak, and stuffed chicken lay next to baskets of baguettes and croissants. Gerard was standing at the head of the table looking extremely pleased with himself in his purple dress robes.

"Come, come! Please, everyone, take your seats. We mustn't let such good food rest untasted." He gestured dramatically towards Astoria, bowing to her as he pulled out her chair.

"Stunning, my dear. You look absolutely stunning." He beamed at her, and Astoria giggled in spite of herself.

Draco moved rigidly next to her, taking his seat. She didn't need to look at him to know he was anxious.

She elbowed him in the ribs as Gerard helped Anna into her seat. "Relax! Remember what you said? About not ruining tonight?"

Draco's jaw flexed. "I'm trying."

"Worry wart."

Just then the crystal glasses on the table filled with a bubbly and perfumed liquid that could only be France's famous nymph champagne. Astoria laughed in delight and took a sip. Unfortunately, hers was clearly nonalcoholic. A sip of Draco's, however, gave her the tingly sensation on her tongue that she had been missing.

Her bracelet warmed as she dipped the glass for a second sip, and she obediently put the glass down and away.

"Ah, thank you, my dear," Gerard, who had been watching her, said in his boisterous way. "We must be mindful of your condition!"

"But it actually doesn't do any harm, as long as it's in moderation. The books said I could have up to a half glass." She smiled and looked at him in the most endearing way she knew how.

"You are very convincing, love, but I am afraid I cannot make exceptions, not even for one as charming as yourself."

She wrinkled her nose and Gerard laughed. She turned to Draco.

"Here, you should drink this. Merlin knows you need it." She pushed the champagne glass towards him.

He glared at her but couldn't respond because Gerard had started making a speech.

Astoria didn't listen to any of it. She was too busy looking over the food. When was the last time she had a lamb steak with a cherry sauce? It must have been three Christmases ago.

She was paying attention enough to hear him say, "Please, enjoy yourselves," as he gestured at the dishes. There was a clinking of silver on china as they all placed heaps of meat and vegetables on their plates. Anna and Martin were talking rapidly in French across the table while Missy was loudly telling Marie how long it took her to do her hair and where she learned the intricate braid she'd done. Even Peter was in good spirits, looking satisfied as he stared down the table to Gerard and looked at Marie's swept-up hair and lace-scalloped neckline.

Draco did not guzzle down the wine as Astoria would have wished, but he did sip at it until he'd had three glasses by the time most plates were cleared.

"How does it compare to what you've had before?"

Draco managed a crooked smile. "It doesn't. It's the best I've ever had."

Astoria laughed. "Finally! It's about time you loosened up a little."

The words were hardly out of her mouth when tiered plates of desserts appeared on the table, followed by bone china teacups and carafes of steaming coffee.

"Now, I'm afraid I need to bring a little bit of business to the festivities, here," Gerard said, looking genially around the room. "I'm afraid only one of you has signed on for the work, and I must confess I'm disappointed by the number."

A silence fell over the table, and everyone stopped reaching for sweets and pouring coffee.

"Now, now. No need to be alarmed! There's no punishment for turning down work. I would just like to know why."

No one spoke. Astoria thought even the phonograph wavered in the waltz it was playing.

Gerard sighed. "Well, let me put all your fears to rest, my dearest friends. If you would like to work but do not wish to sign a contract, you will be able to work for a lower wage. Simply join me Wednesday morning, April 6th, and together we will experience the joy of an honest day's work. Do keep in mind, however, that those who do sign the contract will find themselves at an advantage."

Everyone around the table still looked uneasy, except for Peter and Missy. Missy looked annoyed and stared angrily at Adrian while Peter looked very pleased with himself and was more than halfway towards a drunken stupor.

"That is all. Now please, eat! Eat!" He walked around the table, fussing with each of his guests until he felt satisfied that everyone had their coffee served to perfection and the dessert that most satisfied their sweet tooth. The tension very slowly evaporated as every guest relaxed, thanks to Gerard's hospitality and concern.

The antiquated music got gradually louder and the champagne was poured in larger amounts and even glasses of firewhiskey appeared so that hours later there was more than one boisterous conversation and a lot of laughter.

Gerard was still there, no longer fussing but looking over the others as though each one were his pride and joy.

"When I thought about starting this," Gerard said quietly to Astoria, "I had hoped that it would be like this. Happy. Very lively." His eyes twinkled. "And I am much in your debt, my dear. You and your new friends have given an old man his very most dreams."

Astoria, feeling woozy from the late hour and exhilarated by good food and relaxed conversation, babbled something along the lines of "don't worry about it," and dozens of compliments about what a success the night was.

But Martin, who was a lot less reserved with a bottle of champagne in him, was telling a story in a mix of English and French, and Astoria was distracted from Gerard by a peel of laughter coming from Anna and Marie. Even Draco chuckled. And she was so surprised that she hardly registered that Gerard had patted her hand in a fatherly way and had left the table for the gate.

Anna was the first to leave the table, and then so did Marie. But everyone else stayed until the sky was starting to lighten and the glasses were no longer filled with champagne but with water, as though the House Elves who were most likely serving them knew when to cut them off.

When Astoria and Draco stumbled to their room, Peter and Adrian were both asleep at the table, having bonded over a love of firewhiskey and a hatred of the House Elf Movement overtaking Britain. Missy was still at the table, too, trying to get a sip of anyone's leftover champagne or whiskey, but the glasses kept emptying themselves when she tried to drink from them. Astoria, who had decided that she didn't much like Missy, cackled evilly about it as she stumbled into their room.

Draco walked in after her as if he didn't have one drop of alcohol in his system, but he gave himself away when he ran into the doorframe and let out a string of slightly slurred expletives.

"Aha! I knew you had too much to drink!" Astoria said to him.

"Yeah? What about you? You're sssstumbling around, and you haven't evennn had a drink." And he leaned against the door to close it while grabbing Astoria around the waist.

She squealed in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"You're pretty," he said, and nuzzled his nose into her neck.

"You're awfully affectionate right now," Astoria said, laughing.

"Mhmm."

'Come on, I'm so tired. My eyes won't stay open." She was struggling to take her earrings off while Draco kept his arms firmly around her.

"Come on! Just move over like a foot and you can lie down!" She pulled him towards the bed, and he half fell and half sat down.

Astoria pulled off her dress so that she was in her much more comfortable slip, and then called Draco ridiculous and helped him take off his shoes and his robes.

When she scooted into bed next to him, he put his arm around her again and started kissing her, moving gently from her neck to her shoulders.

It felt nice and blended beautifully with the floating feeling that was still surviving from dinner.

"Mmm...You'll need to drink more wine, I think," she said as he moved his hands around her waist.

"I think so, too."

She laughed, liking how relaxed he was and how he smelled like champagne. "All right, Eric—" and pushed him over so she could kiss him.

Halfway to Draco's lips they both realized what she had said.

They stared at each other for a minute, Draco's eyes still hazy. Astoria gave him a peck on the cheek before rolling back over to settle on her side.

"Goodnight," she said.

Draco sighed resignedly but still put his arm around her waist, pulling her ever so slightly towards him. She let herself lean comfortably against him and wondered if she would ever forget about Eric.

She fell asleep to Draco's heavy breathing.

* * *

**This is one of my favorite chapters, so I am so excited I finally got to share it with you guys!**

**A few questions... 1) Of all the people you met in this chapter, who did you find the most interesting? 2) What do you think Gerard will have them do for work?**

**And finally...you guys are the best. Thanks for keeping up with the story and for reviewing!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Please read and review! And thanks to seerblood2036 for the reminder to update :) AND thank you to EVERYONE who reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. It really means a lot to me. Chapter 8 was one of my favorites, so I am so glad you all liked it, too!  
**

* * *

_Hogwarts, October of 2024_

They were in the library, looking over the quidditch pitch at the Ravenclaw team practice.

"So bored," Minnie said. They were supposed to be reading over their syllabi and deciding what they wanted their term paper to be on. But it was raining outside, and the dampness and the dreary sound was making them both restless and irritable.

"Well, choose a topic and pull out a book to start researching or something. Just to see if you like it, anyway. Like I did," Cece said.

"Yeah, and you hated it."

"Well, maybe researching serial killers doesn't suit me."

"You know what you should do? You should research the inner circle of Tom Riddle's Death Eaters. You've got tons of inside information."

"That's not funny, Minerva, and you know it. Here," Cece pulled a stack of four books from the side of the table to directly in front of her friend. "Make yourself useful and see if generational blood ideology appeals to you."

"Too soon, huh?"

"It's always going to be too soon as far as that. Now start reading."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to read up a little more on that society she talked about it class. It doesn't involve murders, and it doesn't involve Death Eaters." Cece flipped open her textbook so that interview with Victim No. 3 looked up at her again. "Only thing is, I don't really like Professor Scripps and I'm going to have to ask her for help."

* * *

**Tuesday, April 5****th****, 2005**

Draco and Astoria slept late the next day. Astoria woke up first, happy to see that they already had steaming food at the table under a warming charm.

She also found a calendar stuck over the table that showed that it was the month of April. A slight purple sheen glimmered over the date of Tuesday, the 5th.

"Hey! Hey Draco, wake up! We got a calendar!" She tried to pull the calendar off the wall to show him, but it was apparently stuck with a sticking charm.

"What?" She heard him stumble out of bed.

"Look, it's April 5th."

They stared at it, transfixed.

"So that means we've been here three months. Over three months. 'Cause I got here in December. You did, too, right?"

"I need tea before I can talk about that," Draco mumbled. He poured himself a cup and slumped into a chair.

"A little tired?"

"Mmhmm."

"Had fun last night?"

"Mmm. Good food. And wine. I had a lot of wine."

"Yes you did."

He ignored her and gulped down the tea while she poured herself a cup and loaded up her plate.

"I'm starving. I thought I'd never want to eat again after dinner, but, you know."

She rested a hand over her still-flat stomach as she began eating. It was a full English breakfast that was wonderfully familiar. She looked back at the calendar and noticed that writing had appeared on the date of Wednesday, the 6th.

"Looks like you are scheduled for work tomorrow," Astoria said, still chewing a mouthful of bacon.

Draco was making himself his own plate of food now, too, and glanced up at the calendar.

"Do you think you should go?"

Draco shrugged. "We don't know where they'll take me. They could separate us."

"I don't think Gerard would do that. Remember what he told you? His job is putting families together, right? He said a similar thing to me last night."

"And just like that you trust him?"

"No, but I think he's the closest thing to a friend we've got here. Why are you in such a bad mood, anyway?"

"I'm not! I'm just—hung over. And—I don't know."

Astoria sipped her tea. "I know. I don't like being manipulated either. But we had some fun, right? Come on. Tell me that lamb wasn't amazing."

Draco almost smiled and shook his head at her. They finished breakfast in silence.

* * *

"Want to see how hung over Peter is?" Draco asked as he tied his shoes, now showered and dressed.

Astoria was putting her hair up with some clips that had appeared on the dresser. "Sure. Adrian was a mess, too. I don't really like him. Or Missy."

"Yeah." Draco said. "Ready?"

"Ready." She stood, and he opened the door for her.

She stopped right before she walked through, however. "Let's wait on the work thing. Let Peter go. I know he signed the contract. Let's see how it goes for him first."

Draco nodded. "I'll talk to Martin. See what he thinks."

She nodded, relieved, and stepped into the sunshine.

Marie was the only one outside, and she called to them happily from where she was sitting in the grass just outside the trees' shade, her wispy hair fluttering in the breeze.

"Anyone else awake?" Astoria asked as she sat down next to her.

Marie looked uncertain, so Draco translated.

"No," Marie said, then spoke quickly to Draco in French, blushing.

"She said she thought she heard Missy and Adrian this morning," Draco said. "It sounded like they were not getting along."

Astoria grimaced. Marie said something in French again.

"She said, 'Missy is a very forceful person, isn't she?'" Draco translated again.

Astoria laughed. "Yes she is. Peter still sleeping?" She mimed a little to help translate.

Marie broke into a wide smile and nodded happily.

In fact, they didn't see Missy, Adrian, or Peter all day. Anna and Martin joined them in the yard later, and the five of them spent a very pleasant day talking and translating. Astoria even shared their Floor Quidditch game with the others, and they ended spending several hours playing it and perfecting the rules, even though Marie was too shy to play and only watched.

When it came time for dinner, Astoria invited Marie over for dinner, but her bracelet warmed as soon as the words were out of her mouth, and so she took it back. The bracelet cooled immediately.

Marie smiled understandingly, and Astoria saw the silver bracelet and burn marks on Marie's wrist, too.

Marie resignedly returned to her room, visibly cheered by Astoria mentioning that tomorrow was the first workday.

As Martin and Anna were already at their room, Astoria stood for a moment outside Marie's door and listened to Peter's raised voice. She couldn't hear the words, but she winced at how angry they sounded.

She brought it up at dinner that night.

"We can't just let them keep her with him. I think he's really unstable."

"Astoria, we've known him for all of two days. And we didn't even see him today."

"I know. I just don't like him. I can't shake it. Just knowing that Marie has to be alone with him makes me feel sick." She put down her fork and looked at him. "You don't like him either. I know you don't."

Draco gave an exasperated sigh. "It doesn't matter what I think. We can't do anything."

"Oh, don't give me that." She went back to eating, although she looked unhappy. "I swear to Merlin. If he lays a finger on her, I don't know what I'll do."

"You won't do anything, Astoria. Because you can't do anyth—"

"Shut it!" she almost yelled across the table.

He raised an eyebrow at her in surprise.

She swallowed down an uncharacteristic urge to yell at him again.

"You can stay as helpless as you want to be. But _I'm_ going to make sure Marie is as safe and happy as I can make her."

* * *

**Wednesday, April 6****th****, 2005**

Peter was the only one who went to work the next morning, so Astoria didn't have to argue with Draco about intervening again. Instead, she sat with Marie all morning in the yard. They were getting bored again, so Astoria tried getting Marie to play Floor Quidditch with her. They were just getting started when Missy came over, and Marie was too shy to keep playing. Even conversation was difficult with the girl because Astoria didn't speak French.

Draco, on the other hand, was playing a card game with Martin. Gerard had been kind enough to set up a patio table and chairs so that they didn't have to all sit on the ground. They had invited Adrian, but he was, as usual, hiding in his room.

"What do you think about the work?" Draco asked in French.

"I don't know. We'll have to see if Peter comes back," Martin answered.

"Astoria feels more optimistic."

"She likes Gerard, doesn't she?" Martin put down a winning card, and Draco took the pile of cards to reshuffle them.

"Do you trust him?" Martin asked.

Draco shrugged. "I trust him more than Jasper."

Martin immediately frowned and nodded. "There's a dangerous man."

"Did he bother you?" Draco kept his eyes on the cards as he dealt them each a new hand.

"Only a little. The bracelet, you know."

Draco glanced across yard to where he saw three silver bracelets glinting in the sun as Astoria, Missy, and Marie played Floor Quidditch, Marie finally talked into the game.

Astoria's bracelet hadn't been bothering her lately, thank Merlin.

"And you? Did he bother you?" Martin asked.

"A little." Draco thought about how he had heard his ribs crack as he was thrown into their room's back wall, but didn't say anything.

"The healers here are not great," Martin said.

Draco nodded. "Astoria was in training as a healer."

"Really? That's good."

"And what did you do?"

"Oh, I was trying to start a shop."

"And Anna?"

"She was a seamstress, I believe. She had just left a job at one of the biggest stores in Paris."

Draco noted the pride that had edged its way into Martin's voice as he spoke.

"Did you know each other? Before?" he asked.

"No, I went to school in Morocco, you see. And I never spent much time in Paris."

They played silently through the end of the game.

"And you? What did you do?" Martin asked.

"I was in the importing business, with my father's company."

"Did you enjoy it?"

Draco shrugged again. "It gave me something to do after the wa—after school."

He felt uncomfortable as Martin's dark eyes fell on Draco's left arm.

Draco hurriedly reshuffled the cards again, being careful to keep his eyes down.

"I was just starting my first job when the war started," Martin said quietly. He didn't pick up the cards that Draco had dealt in front of him.

Draco felt a familiar knot forming in his stomach. He should have figured. It had all been in the papers—his family, the trials, all of it.

"You were still in school, weren't you?"

Draco took to staring at Astoria across the yard. He let himself nod slightly.

Martin sighed. "What a terrible time to be young and in England." He picked up the cards.

Draco eyed him suspiciously, but Martin was looking at and rearranging his cards.

"About work tomorrow," Martin continued. "I think I understand Astoria's trust in Gerard. I would be willing to consider either you or I going tomorrow if Peter comes back unharmed. What do you think?"

"Why just one of us?"

Martin carefully played a card. "It leaves one of us to look out for the others."

* * *

Peter returned before lunch looking very proud of himself. Draco and Martin were still at the table, and so he pulled up a chair and explained that there was a factory for cauldrons and that today was merely a day of meetings and tours, but that tomorrow they hoped to get to work, provided the two of them weren't too cowardly to leave their playground.

Draco had to translate part of this to Martin, mostly because Peter seemed to love using the most obscure English figures of speech just so that he could delight in Martin's confusion. Peter stayed at the table with the air of a conqueror a little more before he declared himself starving for a nice, big meal, and left the table for his room. He called Marie while he walked and ordered her to come with him.

Draco was, in spite of himself, revengefully happy when Astoria pulled on Marie's arm and apparently convinced her to stay outside.

"What do you think?" Martin asked as the cards lay forgotten on the table.

"I don't trust him," Draco said, and Martin nodded his agreement.

"Whichever of us goes, if we get to the doors," Draco said, "and Gerard isn't there, we don't go. Does that sound fair?"

Martin nodded again. "Who should go tomorrow?"

"It would be easiest to flip a coin," Draco said. But he grimaced. He didn't have one.

But Martin stood up and walked to his room. He returned with a small silver coin that Draco recognized as a Sickle.

"They let me keep it," Martin explained. "You call it in the air. If you get it, you stay. Ready?" And he placed the coin on his thumb and flicked it high in the air.

"Tails," Draco said.

Martin caught the coin and showed Draco the carved profile of an ancient-looking wizard who had served as head of the Wizengamot in the 1600s.

Draco looked anxiously towards Astoria, who was sprawled on the grass with Marie on one side and Anna on the other.

"They didn't bother Marie at all today," Martin said as he followed Draco's gaze. "And Anna and I will look after her."

Draco nodded.

* * *

Marie did eventually go back to her room for lunch, and even Draco couldn't ignore the yelling through the door as he went to his own room. Both he and Astoria were disappointed to find a lunch that consisted of a watery bean and liver soup and a very healthy-looking loaf of bread.

"They're so subtle, aren't they?" Astoria said as she grimaced through her first sip of the lukewarm soup.

"Martin and I talked. I'm going to work tomorrow."

"You? Why you?"

"We flipped a coin. We'll just try it, see how it goes."

"But—." She frowned.

"That's what we decided, right? If Peter came back okay."

"No, we said we'd wait and see."

"And Peter's fine."

"And Martin just happened to let you take the first risk?"

"It's fine, Astoria. It'll be fine."

She looked like she very much wanted to argue. Draco hoped he didn't look as nervous as he felt. She thankfully turned back to her soup.

Three months. Three months in a single room with just a few days in a yard not even a tenth the size of the Malfoy Manor's grounds. Even if he did get killed, it might be worth it to see someplace else.

But as much as he tried, these thoughts didn't do a whole lot to cheer him. All in all, he'd rather stay alive. He'd rather not leave Astoria alone (although he knew perfectly well that she handled everything better than he did).

Peter slept through the afternoon, and Draco, Astoria, Martin, Anna, Marie, and Missy enjoyed a massive and complicated game of Floor Quidditch. None of them talked about work the next day, although Anna did squeeze Astoria's hand before they went their separate ways for dinner. Draco thought she looked relieved that Martin wasn't going. That didn't cheer him up any.

Draco and Astoria's dinner had just appeared on the table when a timid knock came on their door. Draco opened it to see Marie standing with a small bowl in her hands that was almost overflowing with fresh fruit.

"We had so much, Marie explained, "That I thought I would share. I am bringing one to the others, too." She ducked her head as Draco and Astoria thanked her, and then disappeared off the step to go back to her room.

This made the dried-out meatloaf (also lukewarm) a little more bearable.

Draco set the clock that had appeared next to his side of the bed and climbed in while Astoria turned out her lamp.

He thought they both lay there thinking and not sleeping for a long time before he drifted off.

* * *

**Thursday, April 7****th****, 2006**

He woke up to the clock's alarm at 6 o'clock in the morning and quickly dressed.

Astoria woke up, too, and sat on the edge of the bed, nervously playing with the hem of her sleeve while he got a cup of tea from their kitchen area and put on his shoes.

His was reaching for the door when Astoria swiftly reached out to him and caught his hand.

"Be careful, all right? And if anything is off, just keep your head down and come back, okay?"

She held his hand tightly.

"Okay."

"Come back," she ordered again. "You have to come back."

"I will." He hesitated for a moment, then awkwardly jerked forward and kissed her forehead before pulling the door open and stepping onto the dew-covered grass.

Peter was already at the gate and leered down at him as he approached.

"Decided to join in, huh?" Peter nodded at him approvingly.

Draco felt too sick to nod back and instead kept his hands shoved deeply in his pockets and waited for the door to open.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello, friends! Sorry again for the delay in posting...but I'll make it up to you. I promise.**

**Please read and review!**

* * *

** Thursday, April 7th, 2005**

The door opened to Gerard, who beamed down at Draco delightedly.

"Mr. Malfoy! So glad you've decided to join us! And Peter, again, lovely to see you."

He nodded to Peter.

"Well, off we go, then!" and he turned and walked through the gates into a large, wide hallway.

Above him, Draco heard the shuffle of feet through the ceiling and looked up.

"Ah, simply another part of the factory, Mr. Malfoy. But today we are putting you at the beginning of the line" Gerard said.

He led them to the left through a narrower hallway. The first door he opened on the right showed Draco a huge warehouse-like room that held high shelves of what looked like blocks of metal. There was some sort of moving counter on the other side of the room, too, that disappeared through a small window. The room was hot.

"Like all jobs, you must work your way to the more desirable positions. And so you'll start here, in the melting room." Gerard said, making a sweeping motion to show the room.

"Cauldrons are particularly difficult to make, as many of the typical spells we use in production can interfere with the way the metal forms. Potion-making with a poorly formed cauldron…" Gerard shook his head in disgust.

"Wizards, you understand, will outright refuse to work without a wand, so this entire factory is made up of muggles."

Gerard looked like he thought Draco and Peter should be very impressed by this show of muggle equality.

"That's…interesting," was as enthusiastic as Draco could manage to sound.

Gerard beamed at him again and kept talking.

"I must admit, those muggles certainly find a way to get out of work. Look, they insisted we create this thing—it's called a _conveyor—_ so that all they have to do is put the blocks of copper or brass on top of the mold, and then the conveyor carries it through the furnace where the blocks are melted and fill the mold."

Gerard went to the end of the conveyor, away from the window which apparently led to a furnace.

"If you turn this lever," he said, pointing at a lever on the side of the countertop, "It stops or starts it."

Draco nodded, noticing for the first time that sunk into the conveyor thing were little cast iron boxes that acted as cauldron casts.

"So what we need you to do, my friends, is read the side of the molds to see what metal they require and how many bars."

Gerard had brought them closer to the conveyor full of molds and was pointing at a small, barely legible inscription on one of the molds. It read, "_B. 2 bars_."

"Ah, this one requires brass with two bars. Mr. Malfoy, would you mind fetching them for me?" Gerard gestured to the wall of metal behind Draco.

Draco turned and saw that the shelves were arranged by type of metal, and that the middle section held row after row of blocks of brass, each about the size of his hand."

He brought two blocks over, and Gerard showed him and Peter how to arrange them properly on the top of the mold. He went over all the mold types, including the heaviest, which called for as many as fifteen blocks of copper. For each one, the blocks had to be arranged in a precise way so that they would melt into the mold correctly.

When Gerard was certain that they could arrange all the molds properly, over an hour had passed and all three were sweating and puffing.

"Well, there you go, my friends. Sorry for the heat, but this is only a temporary position. We'll be moving you to some more comfortable work once we get more of your friends to join us." Gerard mopped his head with a now-drenched handkerchief. "Someone will be up with breakfast at nine thirty. You can take it in the room upstairs. Good day."

And Gerard looked very relieved to be leaving the boiling hot room. Draco heard the door lock behind him.

Draco didn't have much time to think about this, however, because the conveyor-thing was moving, and Peter and he still hadn't filled half of the molds with the proper metals yet.

Peter was seeming less and less enthusiastic for their new jobs the longer time went on. At 8:30, he simply stopped working and stood around to wait for breakfast while Draco raced back and forth from the conveyor to the shelves, trying to fill them properly as fast as he could. He would have stopped the conveyor for a break, but he couldn't figure out which way to pull it without getting too behind on the cauldrons.

Peter easily turned around and turned the lever, causing the conveyer to stop, as soon as a hefty and sour-faced woman with a tray arrived for their breakfast at nine thirty. On leaving the room, they found themselves accompanied by two guards on their way up the stairs to what was apparently the break room. It was cool up there, and both of them devoured their food, Peter only looking more and more disgruntled.

They were returned to the melting room after a half hour.

Peter didn't even pretend to work. As soon as the door was locked behind them, he leaned against a stool and crossed his arms.

Draco practiced moving the lever to turn the conveyor on and off before he went back to work. It stuck so that he had to push really hard to get it to engage.

He took his time with the rest of the shift, allowing himself to turn off the conveyor for a break when he got behind. By the time the guards came back to walk them back to the yard, Draco's back was aching and his hands were dirty and blistering in a few places. Even Peter looked dirty and tired, as if just standing in that room doing nothing was exhausting.

Astoria ran up to him as soon as he walked through the gate.

"Are you all right? What happened?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."

"What did they have you doing?"

"Putting metal with cauldron molds in this room that must have been a thousand degrees." He hadn't stopped walking towards their room. All he could think about was how nice a shower would be.

"Oh. Well, how was it?"

"Fine. Didn't see anyone all day practically. Peter's worthless. Didn't do anything."

"And you are okay?"

"Yes, Astoria, I'm fine. Just tired."

He walked straight into the bathroom and turned on the shower. By the time he had washed all the grime off, Astoria had hung a change of clothes for him on the back of the door, which he gratefully changed into.

Lunch was already on the table, and Draco wolfed down the roast chicken, potatoes, and asparagus while Astoria watched him.

"You should sleep," she said, pushing the uneaten food around on her plate.

"You need to eat all of that," Draco said, ignoring her.

"If I eat will you take a nap?"

"Sure." Honestly, sleep sounded amazing.

He waited until she had eaten half of her plate, and then crawled under the sheets. He was asleep in minutes.

* * *

Martin and Anna were waiting for her when Astoria stepped out of the room, carrying a large basket from her and Draco's pantry.

"Is he all right?" Anna asked.

"I think so. Just really tired. He's already asleep."

The three of them moved to the patio table while Astoria relayed everything Draco had told her. It wasn't much.

"Where's Marie?"

"Peter called her back to their room," Martin said.

Both Anna and Astoria frowned.

"Draco must have been tired," Anna said quietly. "He didn't notice our new friends."

All three of them looked towards the trees where a German woman with perfectly curled hair and red painted fingernails was sitting in the grass and a wiry jumpy man with black hair was pacing anxiously between the trees and the wall. His name was Jonas. Hers was Vera.

Astoria was busy unloading her basket. "Did you guys get much to eat?"

Anna shook her head.

"I figured. Here, I brought it all out for you. I'm going to ask them over."

"I'll do it," Anna said, and she left the table to talk with Vera again.

Vera, like everybody on their first day out, was standoffish and declined the invitation.

The three of them sat and ate in silence, periodically looking over the doors. Missy and Adrian appeared to be getting along and so were holed up in their room. Astoria was just about to knock on Marie's door when the girl herself opened it and slipped out into the yard looking frazzled.

Anna waved her over and asked her what was wrong.

Marie waved her off as she took a seat, saying something fast.

"Bad work day," Anna explained to Astoria.

"Yeah, Draco mentioned that Peter didn't enjoy the assignment," Astoria said.

Marie appeared to understand and looked like that wasn't the half of it, but she didn't say anything.

Martin, sensing that Marie wanted to talk more but wouldn't while he was there, politely excused himself. He walked purposely over to Jonas, and the two began talking while Jonas paced.

"So bad work day?" Astoria asked Marie.

"Oui. He is—" Marie hesitated. "He is angry."

Anna asked her something in French, to which Marie said a lot of things that Astoria didn't understand besides, "No, no," right at the beginning.

They talked back and forth for a while. Astoria stared at the table and did her best to look warm and inviting and not at all dying to know what they were saying. From the tone, Anna was upset and reprimanding Marie, and Marie was apologizing and making excuses.

Eventually they quieted down, and Marie looked uncomfortable. At this point she had figured out that Astoria didn't speak a lick of French, and turned to her.

"He is angry when I speak French. You can help?"

"Help you how?"

"English. Help my English."

"Oh, well you're already doing better than I thought. I didn't know you could speak at all."

Marie blushed and smiled. "A little. A little."

"Well, of course I can help. And you can help me learn French."

Astoria saw Anna nod to this out of the corner of her eye.

All three were silent. Marie turned to Anna again.

"Your baby is—when?"

"Oh. September. Probably around the 7th. And you?"

"_Novembre_. _Et vous?_" Marie turned to Astoria.

"Oh! I, um. Well, we haven't really figured it out yet. I hadn't thought to use the calendar for that." Because, Astoria realized, she and Draco were doing wonderfully pretending that a baby was some vague, far-off event in the future that they didn't need to think about for a very long time.

"How far along are you?" Anna asked.

"Um, six weeks?"

"All right, well that puts you at…" Anna counted on her fingers. "November, too."

Marie beamed at her and said something Astoria couldn't understand.

"She said maybe they will share a birthday," Anna smiled a little sadly.

All three were quiet.

Marie spoke first. "I always wanted a baby," She said the words slowly, carefully pronouncing each word. "But…"

Anna nodded. "But different." She looked across at Martin for a moment. "I wanted a little girl named Morgan. It was my mother's name."

Marie asked something in French, looking anxious.

"I don't know. Astoria, do you think they will let us name them?"

"I—I don't know."

"Have you thought of names?"

"Um, no. We haven't. Draco's not—very happy about it."

The other two looked like they understood exactly what she meant.

"_Et vous?_" Anna turned to Marie.

"_Oui._ Amie, or Solís. For a girl."

"Solís. That's a pretty name. What's it from?"

"_Il signifie_ comfort," Marie explained.

Astoria wondered how lonely Marie must be living with someone like Peter.

* * *

Over dinner, Draco and Astoria were quiet.

"Martin said he would go to work tomorrow," Astoria said.

Draco nodded.

They went back to silence. Draco looked like he was still half asleep.

Astoria cleared her throat nervously. "November."

"What?" Draco was still staring at his food, chewing.

"November. The baby's due in November."

Draco seemed to take extra-long to finish chewing and take a sip of water.

"Okay."

"Have you thought about names?"

"What?"

Astoria forced herself to not snap at him. "You heard me."

"Oh." He took his time putting his fork down and leaning back in his chair.

"Have you?" he asked.

"No."

"I think that's good."

"What do you mean, you think that's good?"

"I don't know that we should get—attached." He was pointedly not looking at her.

"Draco, this isn't a puppy we found in the rain. It's a child. And it's just as much yours as it is mine, whether you like it or not."

"They might take it away."

"We don't know that."

"Astoria, really." He looked at her, exasperated.

"Why would they give us all those parenting books? Shouldn't we at least prepare for and consider the possibility of us keeping it?"

He shrugged noncommittally.

"Think about how unprepared we will be if they don't take it away, and then we have a baby with no idea how to care for it, no names picked out, nothing."

"It will be harder that way."

"Don't pretend to be all noble. You just don't like anything to do with feelings and caring for people. Heaven forbid you get attached to _your own child._" Her voice had reached a shrill note, and part of her brain was telling her that perhaps Draco was just tired and that he was doing really well for a person who hadn't allowed himself to care about anyone since the War.

Draco grimaced.

Astoria stood up and pushed away from the table. "I'm going to take a shower."

By the time she got out of the shower, Draco was already asleep on his side of the bed.

She fell asleep running through the names that ran in her family.

She thought of her middle name, Cassiopeia, and she dreamed of a little girl called Cassie.

* * *

**Friday, April 8th, 2005**

Martin was gone when Astoria and Draco stepped onto the grassy yard the next morning. Missy was already out with Anna, looking deeply unhappy.

"Good morning," Anna said. Draco thought her smile was strained.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Martin was the only one who went to work today," Anna said.

"Because Adrian can't be bothered to do anything but sulk all day," Missy spat.

"Yes, Missy and Adrian aren't getting along right now," Anna said, and she sounded even more strained.

Not that Missy noticed. She was already ranting about how selfish and spineless Adrian was. She only seemed to notice Draco once she'd gone on about how fast she would go to work if she could.

"Why are you here?"

"Martin and Draco decided to take turns for work," Astoria answered for him.

"Why?"

Astoria shrugged. "Just to be safe."

Actually, Draco thought, Martin had agreed to go because Draco had been too tired. At least that's what he had thought. But he hadn't talked to Astoria since dinner the night before, so there was no way to confirm this.

Astoria didn't seem to care, though. Still bothered about last night, he figured.

"Peter didn't go to work?" Draco asked.

"No. We haven't seen him or Marie." Anna said.

Missy made a comment about yet another worthless male, which everyone else ignored.

Astoria went and stood at Marie's door for a moment, and Draco followed her. They listened silently before Astoria sighed, not hearing anything.

Draco didn't move back with her but reached for her hand.

She stopped and let him hold it, watching him expectantly.

But he didn't know what to say. He was pretty sure Astoria wouldn't appreciate that he never even called the baby a baby. In his head, he always referred to it at The Parasite—something there against their will that was stealing nutrients from Astoria and that would probably do more harm than good.

So no, he hadn't thought about names. You don't usually name parasites.

After a few moments of embarrassed silence, he put his hand back to his side and walked with her back over to the little group at the patio table. He could see the disappointment on her face.

Astoria and Draco had both just settled quietly into their chairs when Vera and Jonas' door opened, and the yard echoed with a man's shrill and desperate voice and the sound of falling—or thrown—objects.

Vera slipped through the door and closed it behind her, and the noise stopped.

She stayed leaning against the door for a moment, and then walked away from the patio table and towards the trees. They couldn't see her after she sat down behind one of the tree trunks.

"Should we—" Anna began, but then Marie's door opened, and Marie slipped out of her room just as quietly. She was wearing the same robes she'd been in yesterday, and her hair was messy and undone from the braid she'd had it in before.

Astoria and Anna were on their feet the moment they recognized a bruise along the side of her face.

"I didn't get the chance to tell you, Draco heard Anna say under her breath as she and Astoria walked quickly towards Marie, "But yesterday she said that he—" but by then they had reached where Marie was sitting on the stoop outside her door, curling in on herself with her arms around her legs.

Anna knelt carefully next to her and murmured something to her that Draco couldn't hear.

Marie shook her head and kept her head low with her hair hiding her left eye.

Anna said something again, and put an arm around Marie to help her up. Astoria quickly went to Marie's other side, and together they walked her to Anna's room and shut the door.

* * *

Marie wouldn't tell them what happened, but they managed to help her wash away some of the crusted blood from a cut by her eye. After helping her change into one of Anna's clean nightgowns—both noticing a handful of bruises along her arms—they settled her on Anna's couch with an extra blanket and pillow.

When she fell asleep, Anna made some tea, and she was finally able to tell Astoria the conversation they had had in French the day before. Apparently, Anna had asked Marie if Peter had ever hurt her, and Marie had said something along the lines of, "No, not very much."

They sipped their tea in silence, thinking.

"It's better when he's feeling in control. And when he is not—what do you say? Bored," Anna said.

"Did she say that yesterday?"

Anna nodded.

"We have to find a way to make him go to work, then," Astoria said. "And it can't be whatever awful thing Gerard had them doing yesterday."

"Or he has to feel better about it," Anna said.

"What do you mean?"

"I think—could we change how he sees it? Could we make him think it was exercise, or—"

But Marie was stirring again, so Anna rushed over to her to see if she wanted anything to eat or drink.

And for the first time, Astoria took a moment to notice just how identical their rooms were. Marie was on the same purple couch, and the same purple curtains graced the back window. The only difference was the shelves—these ones held books in French in addition to a few in English, and Astoria recognized a flute and more than one music book.

Lunch for her and Draco was a meager affair, although Anna and Martin had more than enough food to share with them. Martin, it appeared, had fared a little better in the melting room, thanks to a charmed fan placed in the room by Gerard.

But while it was enough food to feed Anna, Martin and perhaps two other people, it wasn't enough for everyone in the whole yard.

No one had gotten much food besides Anna and Martin, and two people—Adrian and Jonas—hadn't been given any food at all. And while Anna convinced a begrudging Missy to bring Adrian a plate, Vera told them it was pointless to waste food on Jonas since he wouldn't eat it.

Anna was careful to reserve food for Marie, but then both Peter and Missy heaped their plates from the spread on the table, and after they had picked through the food, all that was left was a meager portion for Anna, Martin, Astoria, and Draco.

To make matters worse, no one's pantry had been restocked, so there was nothing to eat besides tea, water, and whatever fruit or bread hadn't rotted in the cabinets.

Astoria noticed that Draco took only a few bites before shoving the rest of his mince pie onto her plate. She was so hungry she didn't argue with him and ate it.

The afternoon was miserable. Marie stayed in Anna's room, wrapped in a blanket on the couch, while Martin fell asleep in one of the patio chairs outside. Draco tried pacing to distract himself from hunger while Astoria took up her sketch book and drew out a picture of Tower Bridge in London.

But even that didn't last long.

Instead, she found herself looking from Anna's room where she could just see the couch with Marie to the line of trees where Vera had lain all day in the shade. Missy had disappeared into her room again, and had left the door cracked so that they could all hear her arguing—again—with Adrian.

She looked down and saw that she had written on the back of her first sketch—the one of Louisiana trees with Spanish moss—a list that read:

_Anna and Martin – not enough food_

_Marie and Peter – Protect M, keep Peter working_

_Missy and Adrian – Keep from fighting, need more food_

_Vera and Jonas – help J settle, need more food_

She looked up when Draco sat next to her and read her notes. He sighed.

"You'd better hide that."

Astoria closed the notebook.

"I talked to Martin," he said after some silence. "We'll both go to work in the morning."

* * *

**So what do you think? And Question: You know I've posted interviews from Victims 3 and 4. What other material would you like to see? Notes from Gerard? An interview with a toddler Scorpius? Let me know! I'm mining for ideas! **


	11. Chapter 11

**Please read and review!**

* * *

_Hogwarts, November of 2024 _

"So what exactly are you saying? Everything I've read says that it was a muggle work camp."

"That's the official story. But when you read the interviews, these people knew far too much about the Wizarding world. They reference Wizarding culture outside of what they've experienced in the community."

Professor Scripps opened a book titled "_Secrets of the Ministry of Magic: New Documents from the Provence Utopian Community"_ and turned to the third chapter, "Interview with Victim No. 3."

By now CeCe was so sick of this interview she had to stifle a groan.

"Now, this document was just released a year ago, and it mentions the victim's wand—he had a wand!"

"Yes, Professor. I know. I've read it," CeCe said, and hoped she didn't sound annoyed. "But why does it matter?"

"You want to write your paper on how pureblood ideologies affect how Wizards treat muggles, but everyone knows what happens. We see it almost every day still, and we've all heard the stories from the war."

CeCe deflated. There went her easy thesis and an easy grade.

"But that's not what happened with this community," Scripps continued, and she hurriedly flipped to a page with a note that read, "_Dear Mr. and Mrs. ____,__ congratulations on your marriage!"_

"This community shows how pureblood philosophy affects how Wizards treat other _Wizards_. And that's a paper worth writing."

"But nothing I've read says anything about it being Wizard captives. Besides this book, and it was published by Lovegood's company. The Ministry insists the documents are forged. They've even threatened to sue over it."

Professor Scripps didn't look the least bit frazzled by this. "Tell me, Miss Malfoy. If some of your citizens had been captured by a crazy French blood purity organization for years—not months, but years—would you release that information to the public? Wouldn't you create a cover-up story? And wouldn't you do everything you could to downplay the incident's significance?"

"Wait." CeCe leaned over the book again. "What are you saying? They captured _British_ witches and wizards?"

"Why else would your Ministry have these documents? Why would they have interviewed the captives?"

CeCe looked up to see Scripps watching her energetically. CeCe could feel the excitement building in her, too.

"Three years of seeing exactly how pureblood Wizards treat other Wizards and Witches. _That's_ an essay worth writing."

CeCe nodded and turned back to the book to read more about Victim Nos. 3 and 4.

* * *

**May 8th, 2005**

It had been a month. A month since their door to the yard had appeared and they had met not one but four other couples.

Draco and Martin had faithfully continued working, disappearing into the main building every morning until lunch. Peter was more sporadic. Adrian and Jonas never went, although Jonas did finally venture out of his room more often, if only to stand nervously about near Vera.

At Astoria's suggestion, Draco and Martin made a point to talk about how great work was and how many benefits they got from their job, all so that Peter would be more tempted to get to work.

And it wasn't all a lie. After a week of their job, both of their rooms were bigger, and they had gained such valuable possessions as a sewing kit for Anna, a phonograph for Astoria along with several records, and an actual quaffle with miniature quidditch hoops for Draco and Martin (although playing quidditch on the ground without brooms and bludgers was pretty boring, it was better than nothing). Martin had even gotten a collection of woodcarving tools—apparently it was an old hobby of his.

Work conditions were better, too, as Draco and Martin spent the month pouring sealing potions and other solutions over the cauldrons in a temperate room (all under close supervision, of course). And so Peter, desperate as always to have the best of everything and keep his position as a leader in the Yard, was usually waiting for Gerard at the gate every morning. Draco and Martin were even careful to make him feel liked and appreciated. Marie had fewer bruises when Peter felt espected.

There was one little fiasco—while working with old recycled cauldrons, Martin had cut his hand on a slip of metal. He went home early and Astoria wrapped it, but it wouldn't stay closed to heal.

Draco stood outside the gates for over an hour in hopes of getting Gerard's attention so that they could get a Healer, but by then Martin was in so much pain and starting to lose so much blood that Astoria had turned to her notebook on muggle medicine.

Draco almost threw up when he saw Astoria send a threaded needle through Martin's skin. And Martin, even with two bottles of wine—the entire Yard store—yelped every time. It took five neat stitches, which Astoria made precisely, even with Martin's hand shaking. Anna had even complimented her on her needlework (once she'd regain color).

Peter hadn't gone back to work for three days after that, citing unsafe working conditions. It had taken all sorts of promises and charming to get him to go back.

Unfortunately, there seemed no way of getting Marie moved. Astoria had approached Gerard about it the next Sunday (for Gerard always walked around the yard to talk with them on Sunday afternoons), and although Gerard was very apologetic and genuinely distressed, he reprimanded her for letting Marie sleep on their couch for a night.

Not that that had succeeded. Astoria's bracelet had burned her while she was setting out pillows and blankets.

"Everyone must be in their own rooms by dinner. You know that, my dear. And I do not wish to discipline my favorite guest!" He patted her hand affectionately, and Astoria bit back an incredibly ungracious response that would lose her her spot as his favorite.

When he left to speak to another of his 'guests' as he called them, she pulled out her sketchbook again and turned to the back of her latest sketch of the yard's line of trees and wrote:

_Next week – ask Gerard for calming potion for Peter._

If she couldn't get Marie moved, she could at least get Peter more emotionally balanced, she thought.

She heard yelling across the yard again as Missy opened the door to her room. She couldn't hear exactly what Adrian was saying, but his many swears punctuated the air. Missy turned around and screamed at him that he was worthless and weak and that she was better off dead than in a hellhole with him. She closed the door before something heavy was thrown against it.

Everyone in the yard looked away from her and pretended to mind their own business.

Everyone but Gerard.

He walked over to her and patted her back affectionately, but this apparently didn't have the effect Gerard was hoping for. Missy jumped away from him and demanded that she get her own room.

Whatever Gerard was trying to say was drowned out by her accusatory tone and abusive language. She called Gerard all sorts of horrible things and even pushed him away.

As soon as she did, Gerard's tone changed, and he whipped out his wand and immobilized her. He whispered something to her and released her. She walked rigidly back to her door and opened it.

Gerard followed her, and Astoria heard Adrian's taunting voice cut short by what she imagined was another _Petrificus Totalus_.

Gerard shut the door behind them.

The yard was silent.

When Gerard exited the room a half hour later, no yelling or crying followed him.

Astoria stood up and walked towards him, but Gerard fussed that she shouldn't strain herself and guided her back to her seat.

"We had a little chat about expectations and discipline. They are perfectly fine. It says something wonderful about you that you have such concern for them." He smiled at her benignly.

"Actually, sir," Astoria said. "I was thinking. I know you can't move Marie, or Missy and Adrian for that matter, but what about a Draught of Peace? Just something to make Peter a little more amiable, you know."

"Oh, my dear." Gerard smiled at her sadly. "We're already doing that. Several of your new friends—Now, now, I cannot tell you _which_ of them have been given the potion, but just know that I have been taking such things into consideration."

Astoria sighed, looking over the yard to where Jonas was pacing a little more listlessly than the past few days. "I guess he does look a little calmer."

Gerard grunted his assent. He pulled out his pocket watch.

"Ah! My dear, it is time. Why don't you get your dashing husband, and meet me back by the gate? You've got your first Medi-witch appointment!"

Astoria blanched at the word "husband" and didn't move.

Gerard didn't seem to understand her delay. "Go on, my dear! A little tired? Well, no need to exert yourself."

And he rose from his seat at the table and called to Draco, who was tossing the quaffle around with Martin.

Together they walked back to Astoria.

"Teles, the Medi-witch, will be with you in a moment. Simply follow her through the gate, and she'll take you to the exam room. Quite an exciting day for you two! Many, many congratulations."

He bounced on the balls of his feet, as he had a habit of doing when he was feeling extremely happy, and called out to Vera across the yard. Astoria could hear him saying, "I hear congratulations are in order to you, too, my dear."

The gate opened, and the thin-lipped witch who had first announced Astoria's pregnancy appeared with two guards. She nodded at them, then turned on her heel back into the main building.

Draco and Astoria hesitantly followed her as the guards walked half behind and half next to them. The witch made a sharp right, and then another sharp right into what was apparently an examination room. Everything was white, and in the center of the room stood a pristine-looking examination table. Astoria must have seen hundreds of them during her apprenticeship, but she didn't think they had ever looked so imposing.

"Sit on the table, please, Mrs. Malfoy."

Astoria pressed closer to Draco.

"Come, come," the witch said, annoyed. "No time for this. On the table, now."

Astoria swallowed down her fear and told herself that she was being ridiculous. If they were going to do something horrible, they probably wouldn't have invited Draco along.

She stepped towards the table, and Draco held her hand as she used the steps to situate herself carefully at the edge, legs swinging down.

"Lay back," the witch ordered.

Astoria swung her legs all the way on the table and carefully leaned back on the pillows. The back of the exam table was raised up so that she was almost sitting up.

The Medi-witch placed what looked like a miniature horn of a phonograph on the edge of the table next to Astoria, almost in between where Draco stood next to her, holding her hand.

She tapped the horn, muttering something with her wand, and then laid the tip of her wand on Astoria's stomach.

Both Draco and Astoria tensed, hands gripped tighter. The room was silent. Gradually a slight thudding sound filled the room, sounding small and out of place. It took Astoria a moment to realize that it was coming from the miniature phonograph.

"What—what is that?" Draco asked. His voice was a fraction higher.

"That," the witch said, and gave what might have been a smile, "is the sound of your baby's heartbeat."

Draco swayed, and Astoria worried that he might fall over. But he recovered himself and stood closer to her, despite the lack of color in his face.

Astoria's heart dropped, too. But as she listened to the beating rhythm, she felt some warm and strong emotion building up inside her.

_Hi there, little bug_, she thought. She fought back tears and laughed.

"It's beautiful," she said.

Draco looked at her in alarm. She smiled at him.

"Would you like to know the gender?" the witch asked, looking bored.

"Yes!" Astoria said. "I do. Draco, do you?"

He shrugged. "Whatever you want."

The witch nodded and took a cup with a potion in it from the counter behind her. Reaching for a strand of Astoria's hair, she plucked it and dropped it in the potion.

She held it low enough so that both Draco and Astoria could see into it. The liquid, which smelled like a mix of Italian herbs and apricots, went from its pearlescent color to a bright blue.

"It's a boy. Congratulations," the witch said.

Astoria smiled, heart soaring.

The witch did a series of other tests, and then dismissed both of them with a note that told them that everything was right and that Astoria and the baby were both healthy.

As soon as Astoria and Draco were put back into the yard, the Medi-witch called Anna and Martin. Anna smiled at them encouragingly as they passed.

Draco went straight to their room and poured himself a glass of wine. Astoria followed him, still feeling like she was floating.

"I really thought it was a girl," Astoria said.

Draco didn't respond but gulped down a full glass of wine.

Before she could say anything else, Gerard appeared in their open doorway.

"All good news, I hope?" he asked.

Astoria beamed at him.

"My dear, you are positively glowing." He beamed back at her as he walked into the room. "Take a seat here," he said and led her to the couch and sat next to her. "Well, come on, now, tell me all the good news."

"It's a boy," she told him.

"A boy! How splendid! Any names already picked out?"

"Oh, well," and Astoria blushed and glanced towards Draco. "No. We haven't talked about it yet."

Gerard noticed Draco's empty glass and blank expression.

"Ah, it is quite a shock, isn't it, my friend." He stood up and patted Draco on the back, drawing Draco partially out of his daze. "You will adjust to it before long, I am sure. Congratulations! Congratulations to you both."

He shook Draco's hand and gave another fatherly smile to Astoria.

"I won't keep you," he said. Plenty to talk about! Plenty to prepare for!"

He was almost out the door when Astoria called to him.

"Yes, my dear?"

"Will—will we be keeping him? You won't take him away?"

Gerard looked beyond shocked and horrified. "Take him away? My dear woman, why on earth would we do that? Take an infant away from his mother and father? No, no, no. Of course not."

He sighed sympathetically. "I know it is hard for you. But have no fear. Your child will have everything he could possibly want or need. You'll see. We'll begin preparing the nursery in a few months."

He said the last bit as he walked out the door, closing it behind him.

"See?" Astoria turned to look at Draco. "We'll keep him. We can keep him. I knew they wouldn't take him away." She beamed at him again.

He sunk into one of the table's chairs, his breathing shallow and fast. She could see the tension in his neck and shoulders.

"Draco? Are you all right?"

He didn't seem to hear her. His breathing got quicker and shallower and even more panicky.

She walked over to him and knelt next to him. "Draco? Draco, love, breathe for me, please." She grabbed his hand. "Draco, can you look at me? You're having a panic attack. Can you take a nice long breath in for me?"

He looked at her and inhaled sharply, shuddered, and did so again.

"Okay, now breathe it out, nice and slow."

He exhaled jerkily.

She coached him through a couple more breaths until he was breathing evenly. He dropped his head into one of his hands.

She felt her glow evaporating. She swallowed down her disappointment and ran her fingers through his hair.

* * *

"What was that about, love?"

He still felt a heavy weight on his chest, and he just barely had his breathing under control.

"Love? What are you thinking?" Astoria was still running her fingers through his hair.

_I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this_.

He couldn't have a kid. He'd felt something in the examination room, and it was right when he'd thought, "_that's my child's heartbeat." _The feeling had been so overwhelming that it scared him.

He couldn't have managed being a dad back in England. How the hell was he supposed to manage it here?

He let himself look at Astoria, who was still kneeling next to him.

"Maybe it won't be so bad," Astoria whispered, and she looked a little crestfallen.

They hadn't talked about the baby since she had yelled at him over dinner a month ago. Instead, the two had more or less cohabitated without speaking much, both of them spending more time with the others in the yard. At night over dinner, they kept conversation on things like keeping Peter at work and helping Vera manage her increasingly unstable partner, Jonas.

He could tell Astoria wanted to talk about it, but he was too good at redirecting conversation, and she was too tired of fighting him on it.

But denial can't last forever.

"I'm—I'm not going to be a good—a good dad."

He saw Astoria resist smiling.

"I'm serious, Astoria! I'm not good at—at caring about other people."

"I think you're doing okay. With me. At least you were before you got all weird about the baby."

He could feel the panic again.

"Hey! Hey, Draco, breathe for me. Take a deep breath, okay?"

Draco did.

"Is that it?" Astoria asked. "You're just afraid of being a bad parent?"

Draco was silent for a long time.

"Everything they've done—it's been a manipulation, right?" he asked.

"Um, yes. I guess."

He was silent again and became calmer. Logic always helped him calm down.

"Think about it. What would you be willing to do if they threatened it? If they put it in danger?" he asked, even though he knew she hated baited questions like this.

"It's a him, Draco. Not an it."

"You know what I mean."

She frowned. "I don't know."

"Because I think you would do anything. No matter what it meant for you. And that's what scares me."

She was quiet for a while. "But they already have that power. Because I've got you."

Draco shook his head. "It's different. You know it's different. We don't—" he swallowed. "We don't love each other. And even if we did, it's different when it's your kid."

"And you really think that was the whole point?"

"No," Draco said. "But I think it's what is going to happen. With you, anyway."

"Not with you?"

Draco shrugged, already trying to forget the surge of emotion that had come over him in the exam room.

"But—"

He grimaced and shook his head, and she let the topic drop.

They were still holding hands as they listened to the clock's ticking for more than a minute.

"I'll try," he said.

"Really?" She beamed up at him.

"No guarantees or anything," he said quickly. "But I'll, um. I'll try to, you know. Be excited about it."

She reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

"And no more of this sitting on the floor stuff. You're carrying a—our kid. Our—our son." Saying this physically pained Draco, and he gritted his teeth after he said it and only just resisted a shudder.

He still called it Parasite in his head.

* * *

**May 22nd, 2005**

Two weeks later, they had a small outdoor picnic to celebrate Vera and Jonas' new addition—Vera was officially three weeks along. There was plenty of food and a few presents to open, which Vera unwrapped and smiled for very quickly. She was a severe kind of person who liked practical things exactly unlike the whole ordeal. Jonas was so unusually dreamy that Astoria wondered how many doses of Draught of Peace Gerard had given him.

And since everyone had had their first Medi-witch appointment, they all knew if they were having a boy or a girl.

"Baldwin and Solis," Marie was saying. That's what she wanted to name her twins.

"Peter said I can name the girl and he will name the boy. But I told him I didn't care for the name Baldwin—the English for my grandfather's name—and so I think he is going to choose that." She smiled happily.

Anna and Martin were having a girl and had already decided on Morgan. Missy and Adrian couldn't, of course, decide on what name to give their son.

Astoria ducked questions just as easily. Draco had given a valiant attempt to have some enthusiasm, but she saw him grit his teeth when she showed him the small baby bump that was just barely visible when she smoothed down her robes. She had mentioned wanting to find a name, but all he would say was that it could be whatever she wanted.

All these thoughts distracted Astoria from the conversation, and she now tuned back in as Marie talked animatedly about her sister back in Normandy and how she raised her three boys.

Astoria thought with a pang about Daphne and the little girl she had just had. Except that now baby Em would almost be a year. Sometime in June, wasn't it?

She would never have guessed that Daphne could be a good mother. She wasn't a very good older sister. And except for the monthly family dinners she planned and forced Astoria to attend, she wasn't even that good at being part of a family.

Except for the once, after the Battle.

Astoria didn't even realize what had happened until months later, and it all started with a pair of muggle boots she had lost.

They were, of course, the boots she had worn through the night-long fight at Hogwarts that May 2nd. She hardly remembered pulling them off, so muddy and splattered with blood that they hid the shoddy muggle suede she'd originally seen them in at a second-hand shop the year before. That had been in the late afternoon, after she and Daphne had left Hogwarts behind and come home to a warm and inviting living room that was full of her mother's worried voice and her father's rebukes that she should have stayed in her dorm or flooed home.

Daphne always hated those boots.

Astoria went to sleep with them falling over each other at the foot of her bed. When she woke the next morning, they were gone. She never looked for them.

She found them over Christmas the following year. Daphne had been gone for ages, taking off for a trip to Eastern Europe hardly a week after the battle. She hadn't come home since and didn't write, and yet Astoria's mother left her room as pristine as if Daphne might pop in for a weekend over at any time.

Astoria hadn't meant to go snooping, and honestly it didn't feel like snooping at all when she walked into Daphne's room to look for a Sneakoscope. She had told a third year that she thought she had one. But Daphne was always claiming that certain likeable possessions were actually hers, and so Astoria figured it had ended up in one of her forgotten dressers or trunks.

She started with the closet, but gave up and on a whim opened Daphne's old school trunk that still stood at the end of her bed. After pushing aside some stupid papers and rifling through a collection of schoolbooks and parchments, Astoria's heart nearly stopped at the sight of her boots.

They were folded over as carefully as if they were going on display. Every inch of the mud and grime had been meticulously picked off of them so that they probably looked better than the day Astoria had got them. And next to them, folding equally impeccably, were the jeans, shirt—even the camisole—that she had worn during the battle and discarded on the floor with the boots. All were cleaned to bleached perfection.

Daphne was always better at cleaning spells. It was in her perfectionist nature.

And next to Astoria's boots and clothes, Astoria recognized Daphne's favorite black flats, the ones she wore nearly every day of her seventh year. Next to them were black trousers, a white button-down, and a black vest. Daphne had plenty of white shirts, black pants, and black vests from her Hogwarts days, but Astoria felt sure that this particular set had been through the battle, had been discarded probably a little more carefully than Astoria's clothes, and then had been scooped up by Daphne at some early hour the next day to be spelled clean and hand scrubbed. And then perfectly put away.

Astoria would have just burned everything. But Daphne—

"Astoria?"

She realized that Anna and Marie were staring at her.

"What names do you like, Astoria?"

"Oh. We haven't decided. Trying to find a constellation name we both like."

Anna and Marie both nodded, looking at her anxiously.

Astoria wished she could talk to Daphne about baby names, even though she knew she would hate all of Daphne's suggestions.

The rest of their conversation was cut short by Jonas yelping as he touched the back wall. It had shocked him, and the force of it seemed to drain away whatever calming potion was in his system. He started yelling and screaming in German, but Astoria couldn't see what he was doing because of the trees.

But she did see the four guards that materialized along the top of the walls and the two that came running out from the gate. They immobilized Jonas and held him in the yard just in Astoria's view.

Gerard appeared through the gate now, too, and Astoria heard him say _Imperio_ in the now-silent yard.

Vera, she noticed, hadn't turned around to watch the scene with Jonas. Instead her mouth was in a tight line and she stared fiercely ahead of her.

But Jonas was immediately silent. He walked quietly back to his room and closed the door.

Gerard walked back to Vera.

"Sorry, my dear. I hope I haven't spoiled your little party," he smiled at Vera.

Vera forced a smile.

* * *

Back in the room, Astoria timidly brought up names again, and Draco shrugged her off.

He had no interest in helping name the Parasite.

He had bit off more than he could chew when he said that he would try to be excited. He wasn't excited. At all. And had no interest in being so. When he thought of it, he buried down the memory of the exam room, and all he could think was that it was something that could get Astoria or him killed and that it would divide their attention from looking out for each other.

It's not like this was a baby-friendly environment. And kids needed a lot of looking after. But how were they supposed to do that when they needed to look out for each other? How was he supposed to make sure Astoria's bracelet wasn't burning her if he was holding a crying baby? What was Astoria supposed to do if he was at work and something dangerous happened?

He already knew that she'd do whatever was best for _it_ and think about herself later.

Astoria gave up talking to him and starting turning the pages of yet another muggle book on pregnancy that was again supposed to demonstrate the barbarity of muggles.

All it did was fascinate Astoria on the muggle inventiveness.

"Look, Draco. This is what the baby looked like when we heard his heartbeat!"

Draco sighed.

She excitedly showed Draco a black-and-white picture of what looked like a cave with a white blob in it.

"What is that?"

"It's called an _ultrasound_. It's how muggles make sure a baby is healthy. This is the womb." She gestured to the cave-like part of the picture. "And this is the baby." She pointed to the white blob.

Draco stared at it. "It looks like a scorpion."

"What? No it doesn't." She turned the book towards her again.

"Then what's that part? That looks like the tail?"

"That's the head. It's just that the way the light hits it shadows it all funny. See? This is the head, and this is the body."

He shrugged. "If you say so."

"Want to see what he looks like now?" She flipped through the pages.

They both stared at the new image, which looked much more like a baby to both of them.

"Isn't a scorpion one of the constellations?" she asked.

"Yeah, it is."

She closed the muggle book and pulled out the book on constellations Gerard had put on their shelf to help with their naming decisions.

She looked up at Draco. "What do you think of the name Scorpius?"

"It's kind of a rough name for a kid."

"But do you like it? And don't say 'whatever you want.'"

Draco thought. Scorpius felt more or less in line with "parasite" to him. He shrugged. "Yeah, I think so.."

Astoria looked back at the page. This was by far the most excited Draco had been about any name, but she didn't look particularly excited about.

"Well, let's think about it."

* * *

**Please review! What was your favorite line/section?**

**Also, I got the "scorpion" ultrasound idea from an image like this:**

.com (slash) 2012/04/26/belly-basics-ultrasound/


	12. Chapter 12

**Surprise midweek update! Because you guys are all awesome.**

* * *

**July 10th, 2005**

_Dittany for Marie._

_Sleeping potion for Anna._

_New quaffle._

_Anna requests silver bedding for Morgan._

_Missy needs a distraction._

_Jonas is breaking out of the Imperius._

_Peter hates moving cauldrons – please reassign._

_Adrian has to start working – not enough food._

_Jonas isn't eating enough, slows down work for the others._

Astoria's list on the back of her sketches were getting longer. It was becoming difficult to remember everything to talk about with Gerard without showing him her list. And her sporadic notes were difficult to follow.

Draco leaned over her shoulder and read the list.

"Are you going to remember all of that?"

She sighed. "No." She could hardly remember to match her socks these days. Eric's mom had called it "pregnancy brain."

"You could just not say anything, you know."

"But then how would Gerard know that Peter is getting restless again? Or that Anna hates yellow in a nursery?"

"They do watch us, you know."

She fidgeted with her quill and rested her other hand on her stomach, now noticeably round. "You know, you could say something. You'll remember better than I will."

"Not that much."

"So set up a system."

"What?"

"You know. Make a request system with Gerard. You can advocate for everyone."

"Astoria…"

"Well? Why not? I won't be able to keep up with it all much longer. The baby takes too much energy."

A month after their conversation, they still hadn't decided on a name.

_Damn little parasite, _Draco thought. But all he said was, "Astoria, we talked about this."

"No, you talked about it. And I disagreed with you. I think it's stupid to mind our own business when we could clearly be helping other people."

"But—"

"And you're Gerard's favorite, anyway."

"You're his favorite."

"But I don't count. Haven't you noticed? Girls don't count here. But Gerard will listen to you."

Draco sighed.

"Just think about it. Okay? He'll probably get all inspired by how much responsibility you're taking."

Draco sighed again.

But then they heard the shrieks and sound of things being thrown in Vera and Jonas' room.

Jonas was, apparently, becoming more and more immune to the _Imperius_. Not that he had the strong will a person needs to resist it, but _Imperio_ is only so effective in controlling the emotions.

And every time Jonas managed to break out of it, he fell into complete nervous breakdowns that were increasingly violent.

Draco and Astoria waited tensely for the commotion to stop. It usually did after a minute, or Vera managed to slip outside away from him.

But they didn't stop. And Vera never appeared.

"Draco? Can you—"

Draco shook his head. "We can't open the doors anyway."

"Maybe they've changed it," she said over the yelling. She thought she could hear Vera yelling, too.

"Draco, please!"

He sighed again and ran over to the door, Martin catching his eye and running over, too.

He tried the door, but it didn't open.

The guards who patrolled the top of the walls were on the ground in a second, immobilizing both Draco and Martin and tapping the knob of the door so that it swung open.

Astoria could definitely hear Vera yelling in an unusually shrill voice.

Everything was silent after a moment, and Astoria saw them drag out an unconscious Jonas. Moments later, they carried Vera out, blood dripping onto the grass from her limp form.

* * *

After three days convalescing in the main building, Vera returned to the yard. And when she did, she no longer had the telltale bump of a pregnancy. Her curls were more unruly and her nail polish was chipped, too. When Astoria and Anna rushed to her, she waved them away. Instead she retreated to her room, only ever venturing out as far as the line of trees.

Jonas never came back.

* * *

**July 19th, 2005**

Astoria sat in the middle of the yard, staring in turns from Marie's door to Missy's to Vera's.

Her sketchbook was on her lap, but instead of her usual harried list, all she had were the names.

_Vera._

_ Marie._

_ Missy._

_ Vera._

_ Vera._

And she didn't care so much about getting them what they needed as much as she did about remembering—or at least having someone remember.

If they never got out of here, there was still going to be a record of what they'd been through.

She turned to her newest sketch—of the Seine snaking its way through Paris—and turned it to the back. She wrote Anna's name down first and wrote _bracelet burns her – given before they were allowed in the yard _next to it. She wrote the same thing next to Marie's name. She thought for a moment, and then wrote again by Marie's name, _by Peter: broken wrist. Bruises and cuts on face. _For Missy, she wrote _calming potion, starvation, love potion_—that was the only explanation for when her and Adrian were sometimes enthralled with each and despised each other otherwise.

And then, _Vera – _

But she couldn't write it. She felt the lump rising in her throat.

"Keeping a record now?" Draco asked quietly, coming up beside her and looking at her list.

She didn't respond. She could still feel the lump in her throat.

* * *

Draco knelt next to her.

"What are you doing, Astoria?" he asked in a mix of exasperation and resignation.

She closed the notebook and wrapped her hands around her stomach—a self-comforting gesture he'd noticed that she'd picked up. They hadn't talked much since Jonas had disappeared and Vera had miscarried. Astoria had been shaken by it.

He sighed. "Just be careful. Please."

'You could always talk to Gerard," she said a little testily. Her voice was shaking.

He sighed again.

"About the system, remember? We need something better than—than this." She waved a frustrated hand over her sketchbook, the backs of pages filled with requests for food, healing potions, headache cures, sewing kits, new clothes, and book titles.

He was silent.

"You're still his favorite, you know," she said, fiddling with the edge of the sketchpad.

Draco stood to leave.

"Adrian has to go to work." She said so quietly he almost didn't hear her.

He looked at Adrian and Missy's door and picked up the faint sounds of raised voices. They must be fighting again.

"They're watching him," she said.

"I know." He had noticed—he had talked about it with Martin.

The gate opened, and Gerard walked through with very little bounce in his step. It had been a depressed few weeks for everyone, it seemed.

"How are you, my dear?" Gerard came up and asked Astoria sympathetically. No one else was in the yard besides Draco.

She shrugged and pointedly stared at Vera's door.

Gerard shifted his feet and hemmed to himself a little in the awkwardness.

Draco felt his heart constrict. Gerard didn't handle people being rude to him very well.

They couldn't lose their spot as his favorites. It was too dangerous.

He wondered briefly if this was the doing of the Parasite and its waves of hormones and emotions, or if Astoria would have done this anyway.

Astoria was still staring at Vera's door.

Draco stepped closer to Gerard, heart pounding.

"Gerard, I've been thinking," Draco said, doing his best to keep his voice casual.

Gerard turned to him, and Draco felt his panic rising again. He had nothing else to say. He only wanted to attention off of Astoria. His chest constricted more as Gerard tilted his head, waiting for Draco to continue.

"Well, it's about how we've all got these different wants and needs." Draco began walking, drawing Gerard away from Astoria and towards the wall of the yard instead. "Missy needs a headache cure, and Marie needs to see a Healer—those things. Astoria's done a great job keeping up with it all, but I think it's getting too much for her. What with the—the baby and everything."

"Oh yes! And how is everything coming along? Any names decided?"

Draco swallowed. It was at least the fifth time Gerard had asked this question, and he clicked his tongue in disappointment every time they answered no.

"Yes, actually. We mentioned it a few months ago, and I think we finally decided it was the one."

"Ah! That's wonderful. And it is?"

Draco took a deep breath. "Scorpius. Um. Scorpius Lucius. After my father, you see."

Gerard quit walking and bounced on the heels of his feet, offering his congratulations.

He was always pleased when Draco mentioned his family. Death Eater connections still came in handy some places in the world, apparently.

"Yes, it keeps with the Black family tradition of names after the stars. From my mother's side of the family," Draco continued.

Gerard made sounds of approval and bounced on his feet again.

"But Astoria must have told you. The book on constellations was really helpful with deciding a name."

Gerard smiled wider.

Draco felt his heart starting to lift. He rolled up his sleeves while he talked and while they kept walking along the walls of the yard, careful to let the faded dark mark on his arm show.

"But back to all these requests," Draco was saying, reminding himself vaguely of being a Hogwarts fifth year who wormed his way into Umbridge's good graces. "I was thinking it would be better to formalize the system a little—you know, so that we have a plan for the long-term on how to request the things we need."

He held his breath while Gerard thought.

"You know, my boy, I think that is a wonderful idea. Yes," he seemed to think about it more. "Yes, simply fantastic. And you'd be willing to facilitate, would you? Yes, of course you would. I _knew_ you would be the most beneficial part of this community. You and Astoria are quite the couple, you know," Gerard said, eyes twinkling.

It took all of Draco's will power not to outwardly sigh in relief. Instead, he walked with Gerard around the yard a second time and talked about family traditions and made up some rubbish about the dignity of passing on a pure bloodline, and even got Gerard to promise to get them the newest copies _Quidditch Weekly._

When he eventually handed off Gerard to Martin and Anna, he walked back to his room, poured himself a glass of wine, and collapsed at the kitchen table.

He wasn't sure if he was more relieved to have stayed in Gerard's favor, or if he was more horrified that he had accepted responsibility of the yard requests, or that he had officially talked about his son as his son.

And that they were officially, apparently, naming him Scorpius.

* * *

**Some of my favorites parts of the story are in here! Let me know what you think!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Sorry I didn't get this up earlier-I ended up adding the interview and needed to rework it a bit. Enjoy, and please review!**

* * *

_Transcript, Second Interview with Victim No. 3_

_August 30__th__, 2008_

_Mr. Neville Longbottom, Interviewer._

**Interviewer:** You all right there? You need anything? There's water on the table.

**Victim No. 3**: I'm fine.

**Interviewer:** Right. Well, let's get started then—

**Victim No. 3: **Wait, you're running the interview? What happened to Mr. Priswell or whatever?

**Interviewer:** Oh, he, uh, had some meetings come up. And Hermion—someone mentioned that he might not be the best at this sort of thing.

**Victim No. 3: **And you're better?

**Interviewer:** Well, you mentioned something about having a bad history with some of the other, um, interviewers last time, and, well, it was either me, Ron, or Harry. So.

**Victim No. 3: **I see.

**Interviewer:** If you wanted to, we could have Susan Bones come in or something…

**Victim No. 3: **It's fine.

**Interviewer: **Right. Right. Well, thanks. Let's get started. Astoria helped us get a good understanding of several events, but we had some questions for you about Mr. Fischer. The German Ministry of Magic wants a thorough investigation, you see.

**Victim No. 3: **Who?

**Interviewer:** Mr. Fischer. Jonas Fischer. Do you remember him?

**Victim No. 3: **I didn't remember his last name. But I knew him.

**Interviewer:** Okay then. He never went to work? Is that correct?

**Victim No. 3: **Correct. We tried to get him to go, but he was—jumpy.

**Interviewer:** How long was he in the Yard?

**Victim No. 3: **I don't remember.

**Interviewer:** Right. Well, can you give a guess?

**Victim No. 3:** They showed up not too long after we got to the Yard, so that was, I don't know. Maybe March or April. And then he was gone before it got too hot outside. Before August.

**Interviewer:** Great, thanks. So, um, were you in the yard when he disappeared—erm, sorry. When they took him?

**Victim No. 3: **Yes.

**Interviewer:** And—now let me find the notes from Astoria's interview—and Astoria said that you heard yelling? From their room?

**Victim No. 3: **Yes.

**Interviewer:** And you ran to the door?

**Victim No. 3: **Yes.

**Interviewer:** Well, tell me what happened then.

**Victim No. 3:** Astoria already told you, didn't she.

**Interviewer: **We'd just like to hear from you, too. For the German Ministry.

**Victim No. 3: **Fine. Well, Martin was there, too. The door wouldn't open, but that was standard. They never allowed us free access into each other's rooms. Even when they extended curfew.

**Interviewer: **Right. So the door wouldn't open. Then what?

**Victim No. 3: **The guards came down and stunned us, and the next thing I knew they were dragging Jonas and Vera out.

**Interviewer: **Did you get a look at Jonas?

**Victim No. 3: **Not really.

**Interviewer:** Could you tell if he was alive then?

**Victim No. 3: **No. But Astoria was pretty sure he was.

**Interviewer:** Right, I've got that in the notes. Did you ever see him again after that? Or did you hear anything?

**Victim No. 3: **No, I didn't. There was, well. I don't know.

**Interviewer: **What?

**Victim No. 3:** I didn't see or hear anything. But that night Martin—Thomas Martin, who was with Anna—he thought he heard...something.

**Interviewer: **What did he hear?

**Victim No. 3: **Jonas. He thought he heard Jonas. He had this distinct voice—it was weak, like the idiot was always going to start crying or something. But he could be dangerous when he got worked up. Throwing things and accidental magic and stuff. So, when Martin said he heard—Anyway, Martin had to be pretty certain.

**Interviewer: **So what happened?

**Victim No. 3: **Um, Martin was standing outside his door, and he heard Jonas, and—and it's hard to translate. He said it sounded like a dog getting put down. All the sudden the noise just stopped.

**Interviewer:** Did you tell anyone this?

**Victim No. 3: **Merlin, no. If I was Martin, I wouldn't have told anyone to begin with.

**Interviewer: **Why not?

**Victim No. 3: **Because they didn't like you knowing more than they told you.

**Interviewer: **And by they you mean…

**Victim No. 3: **Jasper.

**Interviewer:** So why did Martin tell you?

**Victim No. 3: **I don't know. Astoria was the one who kind of, you know, held us all together. It was probably for her.

**Interviewer: **But you decided not to tell her.

**Victim No. 3: **No. She was pretty shaken up by the whole thing.

**Interviewer: **Right. Now before all this, did anyone else get closer to Jonas?

**Victim No. 3: **Not really. Gerard tried the calming potions and the _Imperius,_ you know.

**Interviewer: **Right. Well, thank you. That was very helpful. Thanks for meeting with me. The Germans will be grateful, I'm sure. Now, I don't think I need to go over with you, but this interview, as it deals with other victims, should be kept strictly to yourself. Right. Now that I've cleared that up, you're free to go.

_[scraping of chairs]_

**Victim No. 3: **Longbottom, did they—did they find his body?

**Interviewer: **Oh, erm, no, not yet. We think we found where it might be, though. It was buried just on the other side of the wall by Martin's door.

**Victim No. 3: **Right.

_[Door closed]_

* * *

**August 9****th****, 2005**

Astoria was still not speaking to Gerard three weeks later. It wasn't even a conscious decision. She just couldn't bring herself to talk with him.

And while everything was starting to feel like a haze—whether it was caused by the hot summer weather, her worry over the others, or her tiredness due to Scorpius—she saw Draco trying.

He talked with Gerard, flattering him. He filled out cards with people's needs and requests and put them in the box Gerard had put out for them.

_He had actually picked out the name Scorpius Lucius._

She thought all these things while sitting at the breakfast table, Draco's head in one hand while the other scribbled notes onto cards of paper to be put into the request box. Astoria's own sketchbook, now filled with meticulous notes on what had happened to them, lay forgotten on the table.

"Why did Anna's bracelet burn her?" Draco asked, without looking up.

"What?"

"You were writing that down, weren't you?"

"Oh, she was trying to give the rest of her food to Missy," Astoria answered him.

She looked down at the sketchbook. Next to the date and Anna's name, she had written _bracelet burned – tried to hand off food to Missy._

Draco nodded and kept writing.

"Adrian _has_ to go to work. They're starving. And if I have to listen to one more screaming match…" She shook her head.

Draco nodded. "I'm going to talk to him today."

"What will convince him?"

"Jonas. Really, it shouldn't be that hard, even for someone that thick."

Astoria nodded and looked at her sketchbook again.

_Vera – _

She sighed. "I'm going to go into the yard. See if I can get Vera to talk to me today."

Draco grimaced. That was what Astoria did every day.

He poured himself a second cup of tea while Astoria opened the door and stepped outside.

Vera's door was gone.

She screamed, and ran for the wall where it should be. By the time Draco caught up to her, she was leaning against the wall and holding the note that had been stuck there. It read:

_Astoria,_

_I appreciate your concern over the last weeks. But Gerard has offered to give me some time to myself away from the yard, and I've accepted. Please know that I am fine and that I am confident that I will continue to be in good health. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you in person._

_Vera_

She didn't hear Anna and Martin's door open, but the next thing she knew they were both walking towards her, asking her what had happened.

"She—she left," Astoria said. "And she wrote this."

Astoria passed the note to Anna, who read it quickly.

"But—"

"I know," Astoria said.

Anna reread it.

"I wonder if that's the type of note they left behind for our families when they took us," Astoria said. She put her hands around her stomach. It was already a blistering hot day, and she felt lightheaded.

Across the yard, Missy and Adrian's door opened, and all four of them could hear Missy's voice screaming profanities and insults as Adrian stepped into the yard, glanced nervously at the group of them, and headed for the shade of the trees. They were recently pruned, so Astoria could still clearly see him pacing from tree to tree.

She looked at Draco, who was next to her, jaw flexing and watching Adrian.

He looked at her. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll be fine."

He nodded. He caught Martin's eye, and the two of them started walking towards the trees.

"Adrian," Draco called as they made it under the branches of the first tree. It was noticeably cooler in the shade.

Adrian jumped and looked over at them suspiciously.

"Rough day?" Martin asked.

Draco heard Adrian mutter something that sounded very much like, "crazy bitch," and did his best not to roll his eyes.

"What's the fuss about?" Adrian asked, nodding his head towards where Astoria and Anna were still standing by Vera's nonexistent door.

"Vera's disappeared. She left a note. Speaking of, you should come to work with us tomorrow," Draco said.

Adrian immediately tensed.

Draco let the silence stay there and casually put his hands in his pockets.

"What do you think they did with Jonas, Adrian? You think he's better off right now?" Draco asked. "They're watching you, you know. And they're going to lose patience."

Adrian's eyes bulged at this, but he crossed his arms defensively.

"What the hell do you care?"

"We just want to make sure you are going to be okay," Martin said. "Now listen, just come with us tomorrow and see how it goes. You'll work between us, and we'll keep you out of harm's way."

"No you won't."

Draco stifled a groan. How could a person be so thick and so paranoid, all at the same time?

"Sorry, what?" Martin asked.

"The hell you'll look out for me. You just don't want me to make life harder on you."

Draco made a valiant effort to not to yell at Adrian. Instead, he let Martin speak.

"Listen, we don't want you to be in trouble—and that's for us as much as for you. But tell me: how are you helping things by staying here?" Martin asked.

But this logic was completely lost on Adrian. He sneered at Martin and turned away, starting to pace again.

Draco's patience snapped, and he grabbed Adrian's arm hard so that he could feel his fingers digging into Adrian's flabby bicep.

"Listen, you twitchy little cockroach," he said between clenched teeth, "Do you see Astoria over there? Do you see how concerned she is?"

He saw Adrian glance begrudgingly across the yard.

"It's my job to keep her as happy and calm as possible. And if that means making you go to work so you don't bloody starve yourself and she doesn't worry about you anymore, that's what I'm going to do. So I'm going to be at your door at six-thirty tomorrow morning, and you'd better be ready to go. Or I'm going to suggest to Gerard that you're a lost cause and that he's better off getting rid of you, and you can see _exactly_ what happened to Jonas. How does that sound?"

All the color drained out of Adrian's face, and he seemed frozen in place.

"Good. That's what I thought." Draco released Adrian's arm and walked back into the middle of the yard with Martin, still seething. He could see Adrian start to pace again, faster this time.

"Well," said Martin once they were back at the patio table. "I guess—I guess that worked."

"Astoria's been—stressed." Draco said, glancing at the open door to their room where Astoria and Anna had just disappeared. Anna got winded walking across the yard now.

Martin didn't say anything.

"How's Anna?"

"Oh. She's tired a lot. And uncomfortable," Martin said.

Draco nodded. "How long is it now? A month?"

"About."

"Do you need anything?" Draco asked automatically. It was becoming a habit that he didn't particularly enjoy keeping up.

"No, I don't think so."

Draco nodded.

"And how is Astoria? Is Scorpius kicking a lot?"

It still caught Draco by surprise when they called the Parasite by his name.

"Yeah, he is. Usually at night when we're trying to sleep." This was true, but it also sounded like something you're supposed to say. Along with, 'Isn't that so charming?'

He left the last part off and hoped he looked more or less happy about it. He was getting better at pretending.

He had to be now that he was around Gerard so much.

"Scorpius is an interesting choice," Martin said.

"It's a constellation."

"Yes, you've told me. But it seems like a—an unusual name to give a child. It might be seen as unkind."

Draco looked at Martin suspiciously. "What are you saying?"

"I'm just curious. Why Scorpius?"

"It made Gerard happy. And I thought it fit. I thought you weren't supposed to ask any more questions than that." Draco could feel the sweat starting to drip down his back. He'd have to ask Gerard to redo the cooling charm over the table.

Martin nodded graciously, and for a few minutes Draco thought the conversation was over.

"It made Gerard happy now. And you think it fits now. But this is a name he'll live with for the rest of his life."

Draco felt his stomach pitch. As if he needed reminding that the Parasite wasn't just a burden for a year or so. This was another person that would live for a hundred years.

"Maybe it will be different when he is born," Martin continued.

Draco didn't say anything.

Martin sighed. "The pretending—the—the _dislike_ you have for him. It's hard on Astoria."

Draco gritted his teeth. "And how the hell do you know that?"

Martin shrugged. "Anna."

"How are you so—_fine_ with it, anyway?"

Martin shrugged again. "I don't know. It is different, I think, for me. But I think it will get better for you, Draco. I do." He tapped his fingers on the table in the silence. "I'm getting coffee. Want some?"

It was too hot for coffee, but Draco heard himself saying, "Sure." He watched Martin leave and wondered for a moment just what he was missing out on. Because no one else—save Adrian and Missy, and he really didn't appreciate that comparison—seemed to mind having children here as much as he did.

Perhaps that's what happens when you don't have any friends or close family for ten years or so. You lose the ability to form new attachments.

Could he even consider Crabbe and Goyle friends, though? He thought with a pang about Crabbe, still remembering the horror of Seventh Year and how bewildering it was to have Crabbe be better at something than he was. And to have that something be the _Cruciatus_.

He shuddered. The whole thing—from the last half of Sixth Year to the final battle—felt like a long and disjointed nightmare.

Blaise and Theo were better friends at times, but…

Martin was back with coffee.

"I'm not changing the name," Draco said. "I can't risk it with Gerard."

"I didn't think you would," Martin said, handing him the coffee.

"Astoria's fine with it."

Martin shrugged, and Draco grimaced.

"So you think Adrian will come tomorrow morning?" Martin asked.

"Yes. We've got the right mix of fear and protection. He trusts us more than Gerard and Jasper, but we've still got something to hang over his head. It's a balance that should hold for a while at least."

Martin nodded. "You've done a good job, with the yard requests and with Gerard."

Draco suddenly felt very tired.

"But let's talk about something else. Too much heavy conversation. I brought cards." Martin pulled the deck of cards out of his pocket and dealt them each a hand.

* * *

**August 10th, 2005**

The next morning, Adrian was ready at his door for work, and everyone came home to a lavish spread of food.

* * *

**Fun fact: I got part of the idea of this story format (mostly the interview part) from a wonderful story called The House That Cedric Built by Anna Fugazzi. It is in my favorites, and I recommend reading it, although I'll give a warning that it has a scene or two that is pretty explicit. But it is short and awesome and underappreciated.**

**As for this chapter...How do you think Draco is handling his new role as the person who takes care of yard requests?**


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